Poisk
by F4llon
Summary: Poisk - Search in Russian. Callen and Nell have returned to Los Angeles, after five years of hiding on Vancouver Island. Determined to search for his father and those behind the attacks in Canada, his intentions are delayed when Arkady is kidnapped and taken to St Petersburg. Third sequel to Lines Crossed and Hunted.
1. Chapter 1

**POISK**

 _(Russian for "The Search")_

 _Third in the Nallen Series: Lines Crossed and Hunted._

 _A/N: In memory of Motsie of Atlantis, who loved the first two parts of this trilogy. Writing will never be the same without my BooBoo Bear. R.I.P. my friend. I'm sorry I never got to write this before you died. But you are in my thoughts as I write the last part of this Nallen story._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 _ **Los Angeles**_

The statistics for children who'd grown up in the Foster Care system weren't good. Eighty percent of those who end up in prison grew up in Foster Care. Only fifty-four percent complete high school, even less get the opportunity to go to college. G. Callen ran his hand through his dark hair and sucked in a heavy breath. Flashbacks of his days in juvenile hall haunted him every now and then. Last night had been one of them. He looked out at the waves as they pounded onto the beach, their rhythm mirrored his own heart beat.

The wind was wild, but instead of retreating to sit inside his car, he allowed it to whip his face, a constant reminder he was alive and safe. The nightmares had vanished for five years, while he lived a sheltered and what most would consider a normal life. But last night they had returned with the storm that hit Los Angeles. It had been wild, with many fallen branches across roads, flooded low lying areas, and power outages. No one could have been expected to sleep through it, but his children had.

Thoughts of Alice and Tristan brought a solace to his mind. They wiped the cobwebs of the nightmare away, which was a blessing. If only he'd had memories of his family as a child, they could have done the same thing, back when he needed it. But instead, the tragedy of witnessing his mother's murder had caused him to forget them and who he was.

Approaching fifty, he still didn't have a name, other than a letter. Living a lie as Stephen Campbell had done wonders to him, giving him a sense of worth, for the first time in a real long time. Now he'd returned to Los Angeles, the need to find answers on who he really was, became stronger and stronger.

However, the constant worry over Hetty consumed his thoughts. He hated leaving her in Queen Charlotte, but he was torn. Torn on staying at her side, and finding his father. He closed his eyes, the old black and white film flittered across this synapses. He could almost reach out to him. So tall compared to the baby he was in that film. He exhaled a shaky breath. His emotions were skittish to say the least. The need to find his father had taken over his life in the past, but now, he was desperate. That last chance of finding him after all these years of searching. Even after he'd been given the news his father was dead, he only half believed it. Now, with a new strength of determination, he was going to find him. He had to. There was no ifs, buts or maybe's. G. Callen was going to find out his name. His sanity depended on it. But now, the need was not just for for himself, but also for his wife and children. Alice and Tristan deserved to know who their father really is, let alone he himself.

"I thought I may find you here."

Callen turned, the large form of his partner overshadowed the sun rays peeping over the mountains. "Sam. What are you doing here?"

"Nell's worried about you. Your kids are wondering where you are." Sam slipped down onto the cool wet sand, goose bumps formed on his forearms.

"I heard it was a big one last night. Seven metre waves were recorded along the coast during the storm. I imagine Eric and Deeks won't be out surfing this morning." Sam was only providing small chit chat, but he hoped it would give him the opportunity to open up to him.

Callen's head turned, his blue eyes searched his brown ones. "The nightmares are back." He gave a hollow laugh, "I've had none for five years while we were away, but as soon as I return here, they're back again."

Sam cleared his throat. "You've been through a great deal in this city. Some good, some not good at all."

"You're not wrong there." Callen returned his focus back onto the Pacific Ocean, watching, gathering the momentum to do what he needed to do. But this time, running off in search for his father wasn't going to be easy. The pull to stay with Nell and their children was strong.

"I need to go and find my dad. I feel like if I don't go now, I'll lose my last chance of ever finding out who I am." His eyes were like liquid cobalt. "Arkady said he'd help me. But now he's keeping Hetty company. I have no idea where to look…"

"I'll help you, G. I'm not letting you go without me, anyway." His eyes were like smooth brown pebbles. The determination shone through clear as day.

He nodded his head. "Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it. But what about NCIS? Granger won't allow you to go."

"Since when has that stopped me from following you, G? I followed you to Romania to rescue Hetty, didn't I?"

"Deeks and Kensi too. But I can't risk them coming again. It's not their fight."

"We're family. We're all in this together, whether you know it or not."

"They're hurt we hid from them for so long. I've burned my bridges with them, probably with Hetty too."

"No you haven't, G." He gently squeezed is shoulder. "Come on. Let's go home."

Sam's cell buzzed. He looked at the id, it was Eric. "Eric, now's not a good time—-"

"Arkady's been kidnapped from Queen Charlotte Hospital. McGee called Granger for help. From what I could find from the cameras, he was taken to the local airport, the flight manifest stated the jet was destined for St Petersburg."

Sam furrowed his brow, he kept his eyes close on Callen, worried he'd go lone wolf once he found out.

"We'll be there in five." He disconnected the call and looked at his partner. "We've got to go."

"What's going on?" Callen's gut was churning inside, he knew the news wasn't good. "Is it Hetty?"

"She's okay. But someone was still lurking around Queen Charlotte. Arkady's been kidnapped."

"What!" Anger ripped through Callen. The old Russian had gotten under his skin, he had grown fond of him, especially over the past five years. It was like they'd taken his own father from him. Perhaps that was what they wanted, they couldn't get to him, so they took someone close to him. They must have recognised Arkady, connecting the Russian to him. Guilt washed over him.

"But we had Bishop and McGee protecting them," Callen finally added.

"Protecting Hetty. Arkady walked outside, he was alone when he was grabbed, going by what Eric told me. Come on, G. Let's see what we can do to rescue him."

Callen shuddered out a heavy breath. The last time he'd stepped inside the Mission, it was Nell who'd been kidnapped. Now the closest he had to a father was taken. He couldn't keep this up. Something had to give. A rage he hadn't seen since he was fifteen, began to rear its ugly head. He fisted his hands either side of him, as he followed Sam to the challenger, barely keeping it under check.

 _ **Office of Special Projects**_

Callen hesitated outside the Mission, his hand rubbing over the rough old wooden door. He took in a deep breath and slowly released it.

"You okay, G?" Sam looked worriedly over to him. He understood the memories he last had in this place, but the need to rescue Arkady took president.

"Arkady needs us. Let's go."

Callen's eyes darted over to his old partner and met his gaze. He merely nodded, he had no words to say, there were too many emotions running through his system at that moment.

He followed Sam, he was taken back to all those years ago when he first walked inside this building. Sam's arms outstretched, showing him the grand new home for the Office of Special Projects. His shoes echoed on the tiled floor, the silence hit him in an instant.

"Where is everyone?" His eyes scanned the building. They rested on Hetty's desk where Granger currently sat. How things had changed. In the nine years since he'd first stepped inside this building, they'd lost too many of their people. Macy, Dom, Renko, Hunter… just to name a few. There were more, far more than he could register. Two days before, he'd learned about Ivan Petrov's death, seven years earlier. Another one gone. They'd almost lost him on numerous occasions—-too many to count. Now they'd almost lost Hetty. No, he couldn't allow anyone to harm Arkady. He was fighting back.

He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, the black metal doors swooshed open and up on the large screen, glaring down at them, was the footage Eric had scoured. Arkady had no hope of defending himself. The team of four men had moved from various points, catching him by surprise. From a park bench, another walking passed him, as if he was there to visit a patient. A third smoking near the entrance, the fourth pulled up suddenly, allowing for the quick escape. It was a planned attack to take him, Callen realised. He gripped the electronic table firmly with his hands, afraid he'd hurt someone he cared about. Who was he kidding, just by being alive, he hurt those he loved. Not just the enemies he'd racked up through this line of business, but because of who's son he was.

Owen Granger stepped in behind them, his eyes darting between the footage and Callen. "We'll get him, Callen." His gravelly voice brought Callen out of his own thoughts.

"Yes, we will. What's your plan?" He studied the Assistant Director closely. The years he'd been away hadn't changed him much, still the same man who didn't let many into his inner sanctum.

"I have organised a private jet for you and Sam, to take you to Jacksonville, where you're booked onto a Poseidon aircraft. It will take you as far as Spangdahlem, Germany. From there, you'll fly to Helsinki on these new aliases." Granger handed the men their new passports. "The CIA have a man there, a Mikko Kurtti, he will meet you at the airport. He'll have a boat ready in the marina, where he'll take you to St Petersburg. You'll be disguised as fishermen."

Callen and Sam took in the information. They looked at their new identities for this operation, one they knew that if they were found out, would be prisoned or killed. There was no doubt in their minds that their government would deny any acknowledgement of having agents on Russian soil. It was going to be a long trek into St Petersburg, but this way they went in under the radar. He hoped they found Arkady before it was too late.

Callen and Sam nodded to the older man. They headed out of Ops, down to the car park. Sam stopped by the bull pen and opened his desk draw. He left his id and weapons before heading out the door. They had just enough time to say goodbye to their families and head for the airport. Time was short. It always was in these situations.


	2. Chapter 2

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

G. Callen stood beside the challenger watching Nell play with their children. The laughter he saw on their faces, he imprinted into his memory for safe keeping. They would be safe here, he knew. Michelle and Nell could keep themselves and their children safe. They had to be. There was no doubt, Owen Granger would ensure their safety, while he and Sam flew to St Petersburg to rescue Arkady.

He hoped they weren't too late. If they wanted the former KGB dead, why bother to kidnap him and fly him so far away? But deep down, he knew why—- to lead him into the lion's den. There was no denying the danger that he and Sam were heading into either, although he trusted Granger that this was was the safest option. However, he didn't know anything about his man, Mikko Kurtti. The name wasn't Russian, Finnish perhaps?

He returned his attention back to this moment, Alice and Tristan trying to catch their mother and tickle her. Laughter danced on the gentle breeze. Such a wonderful sound. A smirk formed, urging him forward to join into the wonders of family life.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Alice and Tristan ran towards him, almost bowling him over. He had to counterbalance himself to stay standing up.

"Whoa! When did you two get so strong?" He picked Tristan up and whooshed him around in a complete circle.

"My turn, Daddy." Alice raised her hands, her eyes wide and hazel like her mother's, but she bore his blond curls that fluttered in the breeze.

He switched children, Tristan clung onto the fabric of his jeans, as he looked up and watched his sister fly above him. "Alice."

"Look at me, Trist. I'm flying."

Callen laid her down and looked lovingly over to his wife. She looked flushed like a rose, from the running around the garden. Her smile faltered, she saw the worry in his eyes. He knew he couldn't hide it from her, but for their children's sake, he said nothing of Arkady's kidnapping.

"Daddy wants to talk with Mummy. Go and find Kamran." Like two bullets, they flew across the well manicured lawn and headed inside the yellow painted weatherboard home. They'd met Sam and Michelle's daughter only the night before, but they instantly adored her, and she them.

Nell's touch was gentle. Callen turned and looked down at her, her eyes searching his own, thoughtfully. "What's the matter?"

Her voice was soft, slightly louder than the rustle of the leaves on the nearby trees.

"Sam and I have to leave town. Arkady's been kidnapped. Taken from Queen Charlotte hospital, as soon as he walked outside."

Her grip tightened. "G!"

It had been five years since he'd heard his old name on her lips. Now they'd returned to Los Angeles, he knew it was only a matter of time before their old selves crept back out of the cracks and into the sunlight. Already he was leaving on a dangerous mission. He saw her fear emerge, knowing that he was going to rescue Arkady. There was no hesitation or doubt in his mind.

"You know I've got to go."

"Where?" She swallowed the hard lump that had formed. After the past few days trying to fight to save his life, now he was leaving to rescue the one man he looked to as a father. But it was his real father, as to the reasons why they'd been hunted down in Canada. Her body shuddered. There was nothing she could do to help him. She had their baby to think about, and their other children to care for. Motherhood took precedence. Although she felt the pull to head into Ops and assist Eric on this dangerous mission, so she could be there to help assist her husband and his partner, if only to keep them safe. Instead, she felt helpless.

"St Petersburg." His voice remained calm, but he wasn't sure for how long. Leaving his family and heading back to Russia, could possibly be a suicide mission. He was torn. Ripped between the need and desire to stay right there, and the right thing to do—-to save Arkady. He had so much to be thankful to him for. Callen needed to save him, he owed him that much.

"G, no! Not Russia." Her eyes pierced his sole. Her fingers dug deeper into his forearm.

He flinched at the intensity of it. Gently, he rubbed her hand, relaxing her a little, coaxing her to release her firm grip on him. She did, and he too relaxed. If only for this moment, to say farewell.

"Sam's coming with me. Granger's arranged transport and support of an agent in Finland. We're going in as fishermen. It's going to take us a while to get there, but we're hoping they won't hurt him before we find him."

She pulled back, like she'd burnt her hand on a hot plate. "Of course not. They've laid a trap to lure you in, to kill you." Her visioned blurred through the tears.

Callen pulled her back into him and wrapped his arms around her. He brushed his lips on her forehead. "Not to kill me. They want my dad dead, not me."

Her brow arched, her chin lifted in defiance. "Really? After all those men who tore our house to shreds with gunfire on Lanz Island, intending to kill all of us, then the soldiers who hunted for us on Moresby Island. You really think you can fool me or yourself that they don't want you dead? Who are you kidding?" She pulled away, the pain she felt was sharp and sudden. Her heart ached.

"Nell!" He ran after her, grabbing her arm and enclosed her inside his arms again.

"Sam will have my back. You need to trust us that we'll be safe. I need you to believe that we'll be coming home safe, with Arkady." His eyes carefully searched her own. He needed her to believe, so he could focus on the rescue mission, and know that she would be okay.

Her arms lifted around his torso, firmly she held him, too afraid she'll never get to hold him like this again.

"You better, G. Callen. Or I'll come after you and give you a piece of my mind."

A small chuckle escaped. He liked this side of her. The mock scolding, trying to be strong for him. "I love you, Nell. I always will."

"Don't get yourself captured either. I can't bare you being stuck over there and what they would do to you."

"I'll try my best." He captured her soft pink lips, that deepened as he kissed her.

 _ **Somewhere between Los Angeles and Helsinki**_

Goodbyes were always a challenge for Callen. He'd avoided them if he could. There were too many times in his life those he loved left him, leaving him no opportunity to say goodbye. It did nothing to ease the pain of grief.

But this goodbye, his first real goodbye to his wife and children had grieved him greatly. There was a risk of him not returning, nor that of his partner. Both family men, and the responsibility for their loved ones hung heavily on their shoulders. Sam had more time to get used to it, but even now, after their long haul flight to Germany, he'd been just as quiet as Callen.

No man spoke a word, other than to greet and thank those who took them from Los Angeles to their current location. Now they sat rows apart on a commercial flight from Frankfurt to Helsinki. The plane was cramped and fully booked, on the Lufthansa flight. Callen shifted in his seat, wedge in by two strangers, dressed in business suits. He peered out at the scenery below him. Germany laid a rich green blanket below him. Memories of his time working in the country returned to the forefront of his mind. Munich, or München, as the Germans called it, was his favourite city. So close to the alps and lakes. He could easily get lost in the old towns along the river Lech. Drinking coffee, eating pastries that would have Sam ripping into him about his choices. A small smirk emerged on his lips—-he'd eaten healthy for the past five years, the sugar rush from three days earlier had been a shock to his system. He'd been persuaded by Nell to take better care of himself, if not for him, for her and their children. He didn't need to argue, he agreed with her one hundred percent. But, it didn't mean he couldn't reminisce of what he'd so easily enjoyed in the past.

The plane bumped as the wheels connected with the tarmac. Lost in thought, he'd been caught out on the sudden arrival in Helsinki. Callen was looking forward to stretching his legs, he knew his partner would be too, especially with his large body size. It was a good thing they'd placed Sam in one of the emergency exits, so he had more room than the rest of them. But still, he had to sit between two other men who were just a big. Their arrival couldn't have come quick enough.

Travelling always tested one's patience. The continue waiting, queuing, just to get from A to B was tiring. Thankfully, their wait wasn't too long. Callen looked out the window from the terminal, thankful to be free of planes for a few days at least. He followed the other passengers, not making eye contact to anyone, but still he remained alert. He hoped that this route into St Petersburg would keep he and Sam under the Kremlin's radar, and that their contact had more details by the time they met up, on Arkady's whereabouts, too. They couldn't waste any further time than they had already, in their indirect journey back to his father's land.

He remained nonchalant as he walked through passport control. Recent troubles in Europe with bombings thanks to ISIS, had border security tight. The line was slow, but at least it was moving. Eventually it was his turn. He handed over his passport and waited. The officer studied the photo on his passport and him for a few moments, before scanning it into their system. Once his passport was approved, the officer handed it back to him and he walked through to the baggage area. His one black bag scrunched up with other passengers' suitcases and duffles, travelled around the conveyer belt, waiting. His lean arms moved and grabbed it, almost bumping into Sam.

"Sorry."

"No problem." Sam gave him a small smile and shifted to let him through. It was important to appear strangers, just in case there were eyes and ears out for Callen. Although they were certain they didn't know what he looked like these days, with the longer and darker hair—-they didn't want to risk them knowing that Sam was travelling with him. If he had been burned thanks to Janvier, he needed Sam to get him out of there. Someone had found him in Victoria after all.

Callen scanned the airport as he exited customs. He saw his alias' name on a card. Lucas James, a typical English name, for his latest alias. He was after all supposed to be from Hastings in East Sussex. The accent came naturally after years of portraying various aliases, especially from his time working for the CIA. He spent many years in and out of London, picking up on the south eastern dialects. This was one he found easy to slip into, when the need arose. Granger had done his research well in this current alias' background. Hastings was the perfect town for a fisherman, since it was famous for its fishing industry.

"Hello. I'm Lucas James."

The man studied him closely, before nodding his head. "This way."

Callen stepped in sync with his driver. He was either sent by his contact, or was his contact. So far the man had said nothing. His eyes scanned around him, looking for Sam, without making a thing of it. His partner was no where to be seen. He was curious. He hadn't seen Sam's alias' name on display on arrival either.

Callen climbed inside the vehicle and buckled in. He turned to face his driver, curious to know what was going on.

"We're waiting on your partner. He'll meet us in a few minutes."

Callen saw a shadow out the side of his sight and nodded. "He's here now."

It didn't surprise either of them when the rear door opened and Sam shifted inside the Range Rover.

"What took you so long, Tyler?" Callen smirked to the rear of the vehicle.

Sam shook his head at his partner, "You'll keep."

"I'm Mikko Kurtti, Owen Granger assigned me to help you on this mission. I'm sorry we had to meet this way, we can't be sure the Kremlin's got eyes on you or not, from what Granger told me. We'll head direct to the marina for our fishing vessel. I hope neither of you suffer from sea sickness?"

Both men shook their heads. "He's a former SEAL, and I've fished plenty before now," Callen explained.

"Good. Granger said this was the safest way in. From the intel I've received, I have to agree. The Russians are nervous enough with the problems they've encountered as retribution for pushing the borders into Georgia and the Ukraine. Although Finland hasn't had the same problems, the borders are still tight."

"Let's hope they're kinder to the Finnish than to the Georgians," Callen stated.

Mikko headed the half hour drive south to the Port of Helsinki. He had a vessel prepared and ready for the three of them, on a dock beside the bank of shipping containers. He hoped no one took any notice of them, taking their rather small fishing boat out at this time of day. It was later than most fishermen went out, but they needed to get on their way. Arkady Kolcheck needed them.


	3. Chapter 3

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 _ **Port of Helsinki**_

The high banks of multicoloured shipping containers sat behind them like guardians of the sea, as they stepped out of the SUV. Cranes as large like robotic dinosaurs, busied themselves to the west of them. No one appeared to take notice of the three men who walked down the plank towards a row of smaller boats, such as the Kristina.

It was white with blue and red trimmings, the paintwork was in good condition, Callen noted. At least they weren't travelling in a dump of a vessel, not that he minded too much. He was thinking more for his partner, Sam. He was used to boats that cost the US government millions of dollars, than this trivial fishing vessel. For the next fifteen hours, it would be their home. Just them and the Gulf of Finland.

G. Callen wished he had more time to explore the Finnish capitol. From what he could see on the drive from the airport, the city was built over a varied of periods of architecture, from the graceful neo-classical to the modern designs of art nouveau and the more recent, modernism.

He'd never visited the country before, yet even now, his time in the country was brief. And time was of the essence, he needed to find Arkady and bring him home safe. Or he knew he'd never forgive himself. He was the last link he had to finding his own father.

The pontoon wobbled under the three men's footsteps, the water stirred on either side, creating a small wash. A figure appeared from below the boat, alarm set in, until the man lifted his head. The wide brim hat had disguised the familiar features of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"Did you think I would allow you to do this without me? He's my friend too, you know," Gibbs stated, the worry for Arkady was etched in his face.

Callen heaved out a heavy breath, relieved he had Gibbs' support on this. He shook his head. The truth was, he should have known Gibbs would want in on this rescue mission. The past five years had firmly cemented Gibbs and Arkady's friendship, looking after him and his family like they had. Having Sam and Gibbs at his side on this dangerous mission, eased some of the tension between his shoulder blades.

"I'm glad you're here." He still refused to admit the danger he was in by entering Russia, especially after the attacks on him and his family recently. However, Arkady needed rescuing, and they needed to find his father, before it was too late.

Callen needed the truth, who he was, more than ever now. If enemies of his father knew who he was, why shouldn't he? He'd thought about this for a long time now, ever since Hetty had revealed to him that she'd known his mother. He lived with his mother's family name, not his father's. And after discovering the news about the blood feud between the Callens and the Comescus, he had come to the conclusion that living with his father's name was far more dangerous. But why didn't he have any memory of his name? After meeting Hannah Lawson, snippets of memory of his sister had returned, then later, after returning to Constanta, he remembered his mother, Clara—-laughing right before she was murdered in front of him. Yet he had no memory of his name, not one. Amy had called him baby brother. Why was it so important for Amy not to reveal his name to a friend in the orphanage? Was it to keep him safe? So instead, he lived with a letter for a name, thanks to his grandfather's bedroll. He wasn't sure if G was what his own name started with, now he knew his grandfather's name had been George. For all he knew, it could start with any of the other twenty-five letters of the alphabet.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Mikko Kurtti started the engine. All four men had their hands ready to untie the rope from the pontoon and help Mikko with the extra set of eyes. Callen's eyes scanned the port as they headed out into the Gulf of Finland. The wind was gentle, but as the boat gained speed, the wind swept salt air over his face. Seagulls soared above them, their wings spanned wide, catching the wind to lift them up and float, until one saw movement in the water below, it tucked its wings in and dived down fast like a rocket, neatly diving into the water and disappeared briefly, before it appeared on the water's surface with it's prize of a minnow. Callen appreciated the distraction, but he knew he needed to talk with Mikko, to learn what intel he'd gathered since he and Sam had left Los Angeles.

 _ **Undisclosed Location Near St Petersburg**_

Arkady shifted on the cold hard floor of the basement where he'd been and locked away. A slither of sunlight found its way through a crack in the door. He knew he was below ground level, the damp surroundings supported his suspicions. A trickle of water seeped through the stonework of the walls behind him. Green moss had grown in-between a few of the cracks that had formed over time, reminding him that he was prisoner. Yet the sunlight gave him some hope of a way out of there. Could there be a way out of there from just behind that old wooden door? If only he knew where he was.

Since his abduction in Canada, he'd been blind folded, with his hands and feet tied with rope. He gave up hope of fighting his kidnappers after the first fifteen minutes, when he'd suffered a blow to the temple, sending him into unconsciousness. He had no clue of how long he'd been knocked out for, therefore, he had no idea of where he was at this present moment. He'd woken up and found himself inside this dimly lit and cold basement. His body shivered, there was an unsavoury smell in the air, stale and mouldy, proof that there was not much in the way of fresh air making it's way into this room. His gut instinct told him that he'd been sent back to mother Russia. This suspicion did not sit well with his indigestion. He stomach rumbled, how long had it been since he'd eaten? Twelve hours, twenty-four or more?

A sound from above caught his attention. Footsteps heading downwards towards his location became louder. Keys jangled and scraped inside the old lock in the wooden door, before the handle turned. The sunlight burst through, blinding Arkady, causing him to squeeze his eyes tight, therefore not being able to see his visitor.

A sound like a tray hit the concrete floor, before the door scraped closed. Arkady opened his eyes and spotted the piroski, confirming his suspicions that he was in Russia. He grabbed the bun and bit into it, hunger overtook all manner of control, causing him to shove it into his mouth. He grabbed the mug and poured the water down his throat to hydrate himself, after he'd finished eating. But it did nothing to satisfy his hunger. He needed more food than this if he was going to survive and have the strength to escape out of this place.

He wiped the crumbs from around his mouth, his moustache and beard were definitely at least four days' growth. Considering he'd not shaved since he'd discovered the problems Callen and Nell had encountered, he'd concluded he'd been taken at least twenty-four hours earlier. That would give his kidnappers time to move him to somewhere in Russia. But where exactly?

He moved onto his knees, pulling himself up into standing position, his hands rested onto the side wall for support. He'd need to conserve energy, if one piroski was what they intended of giving him to eat per day. Slowly he wobbled over towards the door. His legs stiff from lack of use, since he'd been abducted. If he could catch a glimmer of the outside of this basement, it would give him something to think about, with regards to his escape. He pressed his right eye over the crack, where it had worn away to a size of a pea. It took his pupil a few moments to adjust to the bright light on the other side. Then he saw the window where the sunlight streamed downwards into the underground cavern. He tried to concentrate on his hearing, if he could hear any sounds that would give his location away. But all he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse as his heart raced. The sunlight was a welcome sight, although it still didn't give him any clues as to where he was.

Arkady tested the door. Checking the hinges he could see it was well secure and that it would take more than one man to break it down. Even though the wood appeared old and worn, it was solid as the stones that encased him in like a prisoner. However solid the wood was though, it was his only route of escape. He'd have to find a way to work on weakening it, unlocking it or breaking it down, without gaining attention from those above him.

He tested the wooden pieces that made up the door. He took a closer look at the crack and he decided there and then, that was the weakest point to attack. But how long before someone came down again? Would it be the next meal time or tomorrow? Would he have any more visitors to question him? Why else would they've taken him, if not for information? Yet, as far as his memory served him, he'd not been interrogated once.

Arkady shook his head in frustration, as his synapses did all the work, connecting the various areas of his brain, to work out the puzzle that riddled his mind at that moment. Why had he been taken? But deep down he knew. He was the easy target to get to Callen. Someone in his company, had burned his friendship with Callen, to whoever it was in Russia who wanted Nikita Reznikov. There was no other answer than this one. If they couldn't get to Callen, they got to someone close to him, to lure him back to Russia to get him here instead.

"No!" Arkady voice was unsteady, as worry for Callen sunk deeper inside of him. "Do not come to rescue me. It's not safe." He was barely above a whisper as he spoke, but his words echoed around him in the bare and cold confines of this basement.

He fisted his hands beside him. A rage burned inside of him, how stupid he'd been. He'd suspected someone in his company was betraying him, that is why he had flown to Victoria to warn Callen in the first place. Someone had followed him, made the connection to who Callen was and that must have been how he'd been burned. He realised that it had been him who'd placed Callen, Nell and their children in danger. He'd tried to keep them safe, with every fibre of his being. But he'd slackened his security, he'd not been as careful as he'd been in the earlier days, to ensure that no one followed him to Vancouver Island. He was losing his touch, and now he was paying for it.

A determination to escape grew stronger. He needed to get as far away from whoever had orchestrated his kidnapping, to protect Callen. Because he knew, that once word got back to him, that he'd jump on the first flight out of Los Angeles to find him and rescue him—-placing himself in the lion's den, ready for slaughter.

"I'm sorry, Callen. I have failed you, my friend. Do not come to rescue me. Whatever my fate is now, it is my own fault. None of this was your battle. You shouldn't be hunted for your father's actions. What Nikita did was for the greater good. It is unfortunate that due to his heroism, you've suffered so much." Arkady slumped down to the floor and sucked in a steady breath, trying to regain his composure and to think of a plan, to get himself out of there. If he didn't, he knew that Callen was going to come and place himself into danger. He prayed that Jethro and Sam would do whatever they could to stop Callen from coming. With Henrietta out of action, he needed Jethro and Sam to protect Callen. Else all the effort he had gone to over the years was for nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 _ **St Petersburg**_

The journey to the old Russian city had been a long one for the four men onboard the Kristina, but as the Peter and Paul Fortress came into view, with the spire of its cathedral rising high into the blue sky, the arrival to St Petersburg was an impressive one. Callen hadn't journeyed this way into the second largest Russian city before, and he had to admit, he loved arriving from the water. Majestic stone buildings, some three hundred years old, stood beside the shoreline, like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

The landscape had changed since they'd left Helsinki, where the land was hilly, and rocky outcrops edged the coast, with Baltic pines dotted over the green hills. As they headed east into Russian territory, the land flattened, with large sandy beaches. The land remained flat this side of Lake Ladoga, where the city of St Petersburg sat, it's buildings standing like a magical city at the end of the yellow brick road, except for them, it was the Baltic Sea.

Callen had more memories of this city as Leningrad, than it did for its current name, although it represented freedom for the people, since the Soviet Union collapse in 1991, nineteen months after the Berlin wall came crashing down. So much change had occurred in Europe since he'd first came here for work.

It was odd, he thought, that after all the years he'd come here for his country, that it was here, where he would find his father. Somewhere in Russia, Nikita Reznikov hid under a new alias. This country was part of who he was, and it was within its borders, where he would find the answers to his name. He hoped so anyway. He'd gone long enough without his true identity.

Their boat was small enough to enter the Neva River, where Mikko had arranged to dock the Kristina, near to the Palace Square. The intel Mikko had received since Callen and Sam had left Los Angeles, was that Arkady was somewhere near to this location. Somewhere close to the next river along, the Moyka River, where their suspect politician, Eduard Kozlov had a residence. Reports had also come through that Kozlov had flown from the capitol, Moscow, to St Petersburg only the day earlier—-proof that the information given to Gibbs and Sam by their captive, Kostyra Evanoff, had been true.

So far, NCIS had managed to keep Evanoff's location hidden from any FSB men that Kozlov had within the U.S., they needed his testimony to help put Eduard Kozlov away for good. Although at present, their agents were inside Russian borders illegally. They hoped they remained under the radar and could rescue Arkady without any international incident.

St Petersburg was no doubt a beautiful city. It's cathedrals, palaces, churches and museums were a display of true Russian architecture. Callen's eyes caught the tops of the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, with its colourful onion domes. It was Callen's favourite building in all of St Petersburg, looking more like a castle out of a Disney movie, than a church. He wasn't certain why this particular building gave him a form of comfort, compared to most places. Other than his time in the orphanage, he had no link to religion. But he wondered if before his mother's death, he'd been to any Russian churches. It would make sense as to why this church gave him some solace, like the ocean did.

"You okay?" Gibbs stood beside him, as Sam tied the ropes to the jetty.

"Yes, I think I am."

"The last time we were here, that place meant something to you. You going to tell me why?" Gibbs nodded his head in the direction of the church Callen was thinking about.

Callen turned and faced his old friend. "I have no idea, but it makes me feel safe."

Gibbs studied him thoughtfully. "You think you came here with your mother?"

"With what I've learned about my parents, it's possible. But then again, I find the Pacific gives me that same kind of peace, and I know I never went there with either of my parents."

"But you thought Constanta was Los Angeles."

"Yes I did." His eyes met Gibbs, he hesitated for a moment, thinking. He knew Gibbs was like him, thought more than he spoke.

"I'm hoping I'll find answers to where my father is while we're here. I know time is short in rescuing Arkady, but while we're here, I need to find him."

Gibbs gave him a short nod. "I understand. We're here for you."

"Thanks. Let's get on with it then."

They split up into pairs, Gibbs and Callen, Sam with Mikko. It was best if Sam was apart from Callen, incase he'd been burned by Janvier, to the Russian Defence Minister. So far, they knew Callen was safe with Gibbs at his side. And at present, he was unsure on Mikko, with him being an unknown operative. Callen needed someone he trusted, seeing he was the one in the most danger just being back on Russian soil.

Callen was alert as he moved along the Palace Square and into the shadows of the surrounding streets, towards Moyka River, where the residence of Kozlov was rumoured to be. As he moved passed an alleyway, he spotted a figure, just before they went for the attack. Ready to defend himself, he pushed the attacker onto the ground, he fought back hard, pinning them to the ground. Gibbs came up behind him, his weapon drawn, scanning for any further attackers. But the figure was alone, and they were a woman. Callen pulled the balaclava from off her face, golden tresses tumbled down. She was a fighter, tough and ready to defend herself, Callen noted. And very beautiful. He was impressed by her courage, but he was puzzled over who she was and why she attacked him.

"Who are you?" He spoke in fluent Russian, thinking the woman was Russian. He saw the fire in her eyes, they were green, and he wondered about who she was.

"I should be asking you that question, or should I call you Stephen Campbell?" She spoke in English with a Russian accent.

Alarm bells rang when she mentioned his alias. He quickly placed his hand over her mouth. "You do not mention that name here. Now answer my question."

She fought her mouth free of his hand. "So he never told you about me?"

Callen noted the disappointment in her voice. "Who are we talking about?"

Her frustration that he had no idea who she was was evident in her set jaw. "Did you enjoy playing happy families?" Still she didn't help him in giving a clue to who she was.

Callen furrowed his brow. "I don't understand!"

"And here I thought you were a smart guy."

Callen looked up to Gibbs who chuckled, catching on to who this woman was.

"What is so funny?"

"Didn't Arkady tell you about his daughter, Anastasia?"

Callen looked back down at the woman beneath him. "You're Anna?" He felt stupid for not realising who she was. Of course, she would be looking for her father also. He released her.

"Why do you look so surprised?" She stood up, brushing her clothes from the dirt collected from the alleyway.

"You're just not what I was expecting."

Anna lifted her chin, "I could say the same about you, except I've watched you play happy family with my father for the past five years."

"You have?" This surprised Callen, he thought he'd kept alert while he was hidden away from his old life. Perhaps parenthood had dulled his senses more than he realised.

"Yes!" Clearly Anna wasn't happy about this, Callen noted.

"You don't look happy about it. Why is that?"

Anna looked behind Callen at Gibbs, making certain he kept alert while she talked. "Why do you think?" She heaved out a heavy breath. "He was happy playing your father. Are you my brother?" The question came without warning, taking Callen aback.

He shook his head. "No. It was a cover."

Anna knitted her light brown brows. They shaped her almond shaped eyes perfectly. "So you're no long lost brother he neglected to tell me about?"

Callen relaxed, realising Anna was not a threat. It was jealousy that had made her attack him. "No. He helped hide us from an enemy."

"So you're not really Stephen Campbell then?"

"No." Callen looked to Gibbs, he didn't want to reveal his true identity to Anna, it was a risk that was too dangerous to take, but she deserved an answer.

"He knew my father, who I haven't seen since I was little. He's my last link in finding him," Callen admitted.

"But you are here to rescue him, aren't you? She looked at them with hope in her eyes. Taking down these men on her own was going to be tougher than she first thought, after she watched in horror his abduction. She'd managed to follow them to the airport and find out where they were taking him. Her contacts had come through with a rumour about the Russian Defence Minister taking someone as bait. But bait for who? She knew her father had enemies, and she wasn't his fan either. However, there were pieces to a puzzle she still hadn't found out. Thankfully, she had enough pieces to find the location of where they were keeping her father hostage. She was pondering on going in on her own and breaking him out, when she spotted the familiar men before her. She'd seen both of them with Arkady over the past five years on Vancouver and Moresby Islands.

"We are. We've intel on a residence near to Moyka River."

"I've seen it." Her revelation had Callen interested in her even more.

"How do you know you can trust us?" Callen asked of her, curious to know why she was eager to work with them. She looked like the kind of woman who was used to working on her own, like he used to. It was Hetty who'd managed to convince him to work with others.

"Have you seen the residence you speak of?"

Callen shook his head.

"It's not going to be easy to get in, let alone find him. Unless you can swim a long way under water and make your way through a tunnel I've found."

"You still haven't answered my question." Callen held her arm by the elbow, she held herself with an air of confidence, almost cockiness, like he'd known to use with some of his aliases. Her eyes pierced his own, she wasn't shy nor going to back down on anything, he realised.

"I've watched you for five years with Arkady. I know he trusts both of you."

It was enough, Callen and Gibbs understood her reason.

"Fair enough," Callen responded. "Now tell us, what are your plans?" He'd realised she'd been plotting on a way in, while they were still making their way to the city.

"First, I need your names, so I know who I am working with."

"Lucas will do." Callen stated.

Anna looked to Gibbs for his name. "Jack."

She raised her brow, clearly these names were aliases as well. She would put up with it for the moment, but once they had rescued her father, she wanted the truth.

"This way." Anna led them up the alleyway, and along another, towards the Moyka River. From there, they had a view of the Defence Minister's St Petersburg residence, which sat right on the other side of the river. They were hidden from view where they stood in the shadows, just like Callen and Gibbs preferred.

Callen thought about the woman beside him, as she went over the details on what plans she'd made so far. She'd had some form of training, whether it be police or military, even agent training. But her Russian accent had him unsettled. What if she was working for Eduard Kozlov, and she was luring him into a false sense of safety, before she turned him in?

He caught Gibbs' gaze, he didn't seem unfazed by Anna. He thought back to all that Arkady had told them about his daughter, and how he wished for her to settle down and have a family, making him a real grandfather. Yet, Callen couldn't see Anna ever settling down and having children. She would find motherhood boring, unless she had Arkady look after the children, while she went galavanting over the world on some rescue mission.

Unlike Nell, Callen thought. She revelled in motherhood. Merely thinking about his wife had him homesick for her and their children. He pushed the pain of leaving them to the rear of his mind and returned his focus on the present.


	5. Chapter 5

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Arkady heard movement heading down the stairs a second time within a matter of an hour. He looked at the tray on the floor and decided it was now or never. Picking the tray up in his hands, he moved beside the wooden door and waited for the sound of the lock clicking open. With all the strength he had left, he whacked the tray over the man's head, as he appeared in the now opened door. Stunned and in a good deal of pain, he curled over. Arkady took his opportunity and pushed passed his visitor and ran towards the stairs. The large window spanned the wall from the level above, and into the basement level. He didn't wait for time to think. He used the tray, still in his hands, and smashed the window and jumped.

Expecting to hit concrete and roll to prevent too much injury, his body went into shock as cold water splashed around him. Not having time to take a breath, he was caught off guard. He'd landed into the river beside the building where he'd been kept hostage. He was torn between being relieved he had fallen into water instead of concrete, and his lungs screaming from the lack of oxygen.

He felt a pair of large hands pull on him. He fought them off, not knowing if they were friend or foe. But when his eyes caught the darker skin tone and familiar face of Sam Hanna, he relaxed and allowed him to take him back to the surface.

Arkady spluttered the water he'd swallowed, as he took in the air above. Sam pushed him underneath a bridge for cover. Bullets went flying into the river where he'd escaped. But somehow Sam had managed to shift him up the river by about fifty metres. There was a scurry of action on the ground above, as armed men moved about, in search for Arkady.

They shouted as the chaos of an escapee on the loose gathered interest from more of Kozlov's men, police sirens could be heard in the distance. Sam looked sternly at him.

"Are you ready to hold your breath this time?"

Arkady nodded and filled his lungs, before Sam led him below the surface, taking him further away from the chaos he'd left behind.

Clear of the danger, Sam moved him to a ladder and led him up to where an unfamiliar man stood waiting with blankets.

Wrapped in the warm blanket, Arkady looked around for Callen. "Where's Stephen?" Uncertain on what name to use for Callen, he thought it would be safer to use his last alias.

"He's not here," Sam stated. As far as Mikko was concerned, Stephen was no one he'd met.

Arkady nodded. "Good. He shouldn't be here. It's not safe. They took me to lure him here, you know."

Sam stood looking intently at the Russian. "We need to hide you." Unsure of where in the city to go other than the Kristina, he looked to Mikko for direction.

"I know of someone who can help us." Mikko led them along the narrow street, hoping no one looked at his companions who were wet and wrapped in blankets. They ducked into a nearby building from the rear. Sam had no idea where they were, he only hoped Granger trusted Mikko enough to come through for them. There were about twenty armed men running around looking for Arkady, and soon, a couple of police cars to add to the chaos. It was best they lay low for a while, until it was safe to head back to the Kristina.

Mikko knocked on a door and waited. Before long, a woman in her fifties, opened the door. She ushered them inside and closed her curtains, so no one could see in. She spoke in fluent Russian to Mikko, Sam had no idea what was being said, but Arkady did. He ushered Sam towards the rear bedroom to change into dry clothes.

Once Sam and Arkady returned in a dry set of clothes, Mikko looked to Sam. "We need to move him to another location to wait for transport. It's not safe to stay here too long."

"What about the others?" Sam inquired of him with regards to Callen and Gibbs.

 **Elsewhere on the northern side of the Moyka River**

Callen had only just returned his focus to the present when the sound of glass shattering caught his attention. Gibbs and Anna stood alert as they watched a familiar figure burst through glass and into the river. A second figure also hit the water, seconds after Arkady did. Callen wasn't surprised to see his partner dive in after Arkady. With his history of being a Navy SEAL, he was the perfect person to rescue the Russian from the men who had just been alerted to his escape. Shouting echoed between the buildings on either side of the river. A scurry of men ran along the edge of the river, two stood at the broken window, firing a machine gun into the water.

His body tensed, hoping, praying, that Sam had Arkady away from those bullets. Guilt washed over him. This was his fault that both of them were in danger.

"We should leave," Anna told him. Her hand gripped onto his arm, leading him away.

"Lucas."

Callen turned to face her, coming out of his guilt trip and nodded. He followed her and Gibbs back a street, before heading east. Anna was fast on her feet, like a jaguar, swiftly moving through the city, like she knew it well. Perhaps she did. She did have a Russian accent and she could have grown up around here. He knew nothing about her, but he knew Arkady, and his tension abated about her. If she went by the knowledge that her father trusted him and Gibbs, then he should warrant her the same respect.

Gibbs halted suddenly and pushed Callen into a doorway. A Police car screamed past them. He was just being cautious, but Callen was pleased he had Gibbs there to watch out for him. Anna grabbed his hand and led him further away until they reached a river. Trying to gain his bearings, he scanned around him, looking for the one landmark that comforted him. To his right, he saw peeping over white stone buildings, the coloured onion domes of the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood.

Anna saw the direction of where he looked. "That's where we're heading."

Callen's blue eyes were intense as he studied her. No one knew what that place meant to him, except for Gibbs. He swallowed hard the lump that had formed in his throat. All his nerves were on fire, it had been a long time since his body had experienced the fleeing from danger, except for recent events in Canada.

"It will be safe to hide there. I know someone who works in there that can help us get out of the city."

"We have our own contacts," Gibbs interrupted. "We need to make contact, make sure the others are safe."

"Do what you have to do, but we're not stopping until we're hidden safely inside that building." Anna was firm in her demands.

Callen and Gibbs nodded. Both men understood the situation well and were in agreement with her.

"We'll call them once we're safe," Gibbs agreed.

The three of them wandered south towards the church in a less haste fashion. They were exposed in this next step of their walk. Crossing the Moyka River, there were no small streets or alleyways to hide in. Anna slipped her arm around Callen's waist and nestled into him, as they walked along the bridge. They needed to blend in. Callen wrapped his left arm around her, taking her lead. It was for cover, where he needed it the most. Gibbs stuck to him like glue, his senses alert, carefully scanning around, without being obvious. They stopped and posed for a photo in front of the colourful church, that Gibbs took on his cell, careful to look like tourists, when eyes were sharp, looking for Arkady and anyone around who may be there to help him escape.

Anna led Callen into the church, as if she wanted to show him what it was like on the inside. But he knew exactly what it was like on the inside. Gold and colour adorned the walls, ceiling and floor. There was so much to see, it was hard for first timers to take it all in. But Callen knew this place so well, he looked up and took the moment to enjoy the familiar paintings. Before long, Anna led them through a door, taking them down a set of circular stairs, to a hidden area, not accessible to the casual visitor. She knocked on another door and waited. A few minutes passed before the door unlocked and a man around Callen's age, opened the door. He allowed them access, clearly acknowledging who Anna was. They were led into a small room with blue carpet that matched Callen's eyes, unlike the red carpet on the ground level above, that surrounded the marble flooring.

Anna and the man spoke quietly with each other, the man looked to Callen and back to Anna, before he raised his voice enough for Callen and Gibbs to hear him.

"You can't keep him here. He'll bring danger to all of us."

Anna turned and stared at Callen. "Who, Lucas?"

"Is that the name he told you?" Whoever this contact was, he was clued into who Callen was and the danger they were all in just by being with him.

Anna walked over to Callen and studied him more closely. "Now would be a really good time to tell me the truth. Who are you really?"

Callen shifted his gaze over to the other man, before returning it back to Anna. She stood there determined to get an answer.

"I wish I knew myself."

Anna lifted her brow, confusion washed over her, puzzled by his answer. "You mean to tell me that you don't know who you are?"

"That's right," Callen quickly replied. He didn't like the attention he was gaining from the other man, who's name had yet been given to him.

"You've got a case of concussion or something and forgotten who you are?" She'd heard about cases of such things. Some never gained their memory back.

"I was four. My mother was killed in front of me. I forgot who I was, who my parents were and that I even had a sister," Callen answered truthfully.

"You've been living your life since you were four without a name?"

"Well if you count a letter for a name, that's pretty much what I've lived with."

Anna's eyes widened at the story Callen told him. "You're joking, aren't you?" She studied him more closely, but all she could see was how serious he was. She stepped back, surprised.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes." Callen gave Gibbs a worried look.

"Have you heard from them yet?"

"Sam sent me a message, said Merlin has been plucked and ready for delivery."

Callen got the gist of the message, Arkady was safe and ready to move to a safe location.

"Did you tell them where we are?"

"I didn't need to. Apparently Anna's friend here has already been in contact with Mikko's contact. They're on their way here."

The muscles on Callen's back, tensed. He walked over to where Anna's contact stood. "We've not been introduced."

"I'm Lucas James. And you are?"

"I know who you are, G. Callen."

Anger flared in Callen's eyes. "Who told you?"

Anna's head shot up. "You're Callen?" Now her companion's warning made sense.

"He is. Which is why he can't stay here. I've already arranged transport for your father, Anna. He'll have to go too."

"I wasn't planning on hanging around, you know." Callen heaved out, annoyed being spoken about as it he wasn't there.

"Good. Because your father would kill me if anything happened to you."

Callen's eyes snapped at the man, who stood slightly taller than he did. "You know my father?"

"Not personally. But I know how much you mean to him. Anyone of us in this business understands the danger on our family, just because of what we do. We also know what sacrifice he's made in keeping himself far from you. You aren't safe here in Russia. You never were. Not even the last time you wandered inside this church."

"You were here the last time I came?"

The man nodded. "I stood in the shadows watching you. You find refuge in this place, I see it in your eyes. It's not surprising, as it was here where you were baptised."

Callen's hand shook, he shoved it into his pocket to hide the fact that his nerves were on tender hooks. This man, whoever he was, knew more about him than he did.

"How—-how do you know this?" He'd wondered, now he knew for certain.

"Your mother worked along side my mother, you and I used to play together when we were little. Before you left for Romania. I'd forgotten all about you, until you came here the last time. My mother was still alive, she saw you and told me who you were, and about your parents."

Callen hitched his breath. "We used to be friends?" He was right in his presumption that they were of similar age.

"Yes. Amelia played with my sister, Kristina."

Callen looked briefly to Gibbs. "We arrived on the boat called the Kristina."

The man smiled warmly. "Yes. That is my father's boat. Not to worry about the boat, my father has moved it now. We cannot take further risks. Once Anna's father is here, it won't be long before your ride will be also. It won't be safe for you to leave the same way you arrived."

"What is your name?" Callen asked him, hoping it would jog a memory.

"Roman."

Callen furrowed his brows, he had no memory of knowing anyone by that name. "No. I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"Do not worry. I forgot about you too."

"Did your mother tell you my name?" He asked with a slimmer of hope. But after all the years he'd searched for his family, no one, not even Hetty could tell him what the G stood for.

"Only the name you live with now. I'm sorry."

Just like when he'd asked Hannah Lawson. He felt deflated once again. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, we'll find your father for you."

"I feel like I'm searching for a ghost."

"Then become one yourself. You're good at disappearing. I will help you." Gibbs told him, determined to not allow Callen to give up the hope of finding his father and his name. He'd spent much of his life searching, he didn't want him giving up now. There was too much at stake, and a crooked Russian Defence Minister after him and his father. No, he wouldn't allow Callen to give up now. They needed to find a way to bring Kozlov down. But after seeing the event of Arkady's escape unfold, getting close to Kozlov would almost be impossible.

"It's too dangerous for you to be in Russia." Roman told him again.

Callen shook his head. "No. It's not safe anywhere for me right now. Until your Defence Minister is taken down, I will never be safe, wherever I am."

Anna knitted her brows, thinking. "They took my father as bait, to draw you in." Realisation of what happened to her father stood in front of her. "If it's you they want, we could throw you out there, and then we could take Kozlov down."

"It's too dangerous," Gibbs butted in. "The answer is no. We have to do it some other way. Firstly, we need to find his father."

Anna looked between Roman and Gibbs. "Who is Callen's father?"

The four of them became alert, as someone knocked on the door. Gibbs pulled Callen back behind a large velvet curtain, into a hidden room. Roman walked over to the door and peered through.

"It's safe." Roman opened the door, Mikko, Arkady and Sam entered.

Callen looked relieved when he saw his partner and old friend safe again.

"You're okay." The tension on his back released.

"Of course we are okay. Now what are you doing here, Stephen?" Arkady shook his head and gave Sam a stern look. "You told me he wasn't here."

"You asked about Stephen. That is Lucas."

"You can stop the charade. We know who he really is," Anna interrupted.

Sam looked at Anna, "who are you?"

Arkady face broadened into a large smile. "Anastasia. You came to rescue me."

Anna tensed her jaw and pointed her finger at him. "Not that you deserved to be rescued. I should take you back and get the reward that's been placed on your head, or shoot you myself."

Arkady laughed. "That's my girl."

Infuriated, Anna punched him in the stomach. "I am not your girl." She stormed off to the other side of the room, needing the space between her and her father.

Callen chuckled. "You know, Arkady, when you told me about you having a daughter, this is not what I was expecting."

"I am right here." Anna called out, annoyed. "I am a person with feelings, not a "this."

A smirk spread across Arkady's features, "yes, she sure is a spitfire. It is a shame you are married with children. You two could have been great together."

Sam and Gibbs chuckled at Callen and Anna's awkwardness by Arkady's comment. It was a good thing he'd not seen Anna and Callen earlier, crossing the bridge arm in arm. Gibbs had to admit, they did look good together.

"Yeah good thing I'm already spoken for," Callen replied, thankful he had Nell. Anna looked too much of a handful for any man.

Roman's cell buzzed. "Your ride is here. It's time we got you both out of the city."


	6. Chapter 6

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Callen was frustrated that he had to leave St Petersburg, taking away any opportunity to take Kozlov down himself. But he knew that Gibbs and Sam wouldn't allow it. He was almost ready to accept Anna's suggestion to lure Kozlov out into the open, but he knew it would have been too dangerous. Nell would have killed him if she ever found out.

Now he found himself lying in the boot of an old Mercedes sedan, taken away from the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, to an undisclosed location. Arkady, he believed was in the second vehicle, in the same position. Sam was driving the one he was in, ensuring he didn't get too bumped about. So far, the vehicle travelled slowly, probably due to being in the streets of St Petersburg. No one wanted to gain unwanted attention with a man in the boot. He'd overheard Roman discussing the plan with Anna and Mikko. He was pleased that Roman had told him about their friendship and about their mothers working together for the same cause—-because he was trusting strangers to get him out of the city, far away from Eduard Kozlov, before he was found and most probably killed. After the events in Canada, no one was taking any unnecessary risks.

The vehicle stopped abruptly, causing Callen to hit his injured arm against the side of the boot. He grimaced in pain, biting on his lower lip to hold back any sound coming from him. He'd hidden his pain well since leaving the Queen Charlotte hospital, not wanting to worry Nell or anyone else. He was certain Granger wouldn't have allowed him to come on this rescue mission if he'd known just how much his so called scratch was still bothering him.

It was unlike Sam to stop in this way, when he was trying hard to drive with care. Something was up. Callen's gut clenched tight. He hated not knowing what was going on. He could hear men talking, Gibbs, who sat in the passenger seat, spoke to someone in fluent Russian. Had Kozlov placed road blocks around the city already? Him lying in the boot didn't look good, even if he wasn't recognised. The fact that Roman knew who he was, made him realise that no matter how long he'd grown his hair or what contacts he'd wear, his identity was burned.

The vehicle slowly lurched forward. Callen slowly released the breath he'd been holding. He was safe for now. The vehicle turned in various direction, he couldn't keep up in figuring out where exactly he was going or where about in the city they were. He only hoped to a safe location, far from being hunted. He'd had enough of that. He wanted to be the one who hunted, not the target. And at present, he was Kozlov's target. He'd even gone to the effort of having Arkady snatched to lure him in. Now that Arkady had escaped, he knew that there were people, armed and dangerous, looking for his friend, and most probably him as well.

 **Los Angeles**

The sun was warm on Nell's back as she helped Tristan with his sandcastle. Alice was more interested in Kamran, a welcomed distraction for her daughter, while her father was away. But nothing, no children, the growing bump or the beautiful Californian sun, could relax her mind. She worried over her husband. All that Owen Granger had told her and Michelle, were that the men had arrived safely at Helsinki and had made contact with the CIA officer there.

She hated not knowing what was going on at present. She was tempted to leave the beach and her children, who she knew would be in capable hands with Michelle and Kamran, to go back to old mission style building and sit beside her old partner. She needed to know more. Exactly where her husband was and news on Arkady and this Kozlov man, who threatened their family.

But she also knew that her children needed her. If only she could tap into the Office of Special Projects for intel. Then she could be a stay at home mom and work her old job. The clogs in her brain twirled at fast speed. She knew what she needed to do, she only hoped her request would be agreed by her old boss. Not Hetty, who would be out of work for some months, but Granger, who she suspected held the fort while Hetty was in recovery.

In the meantime, the sandcastle work continued. She'd firmly pressed the sand to make the castle compact, as she and Tristan continued to add more height. She didn't know how long the castle would remain, Tristan was known to jump on them without warning. But today, she noted his focus remained on building. Perhaps her husband's absence had more of an impact on Tristan than she first thought.

A shadow blocked the sun's rays. She welcomed the cooler air the shadow brought her. The ocean breeze cooled her warm body slightly. She looked up and surprise crossed her features when she saw the familiar face of her old friend and partner.

"Eric." She stood and wrapped him up in her arms. She held on a moment, Eric's hands came round her and he held her tight.

"Nell. It's so good to see you. I've missed you," he whispered in her ear.

They broke apart and took a good look at each other. Eric's smile broadened as he noticed the bump when he held her close. "You're having another one?"

Nell nodded and smiled. "Yes, I am."

"How are you?"

"I'm good. Better than good for seeing you again," she added. "How are you?"

"Same. Good. Miss you though. Ops isn't the same without you."

"I've missed you too." She turned her head, Tristan was pulling on her leg.

"Help, Momma."

Nell picked him up, sand was everywhere, but she didn't care. "This is my good friend, Eric. You want to say hello?"

Tristan looked over at the Tech, his blue eyes stared at the new face, studying.

"He's so much like you, but with Callen's eyes," Eric noted.

Nell smiled. "Yes, he is. He doesn't say a lot, but I think he takes in far more than he lets on."

Eric looked at the sandcastle. "That castle looks awesome. Can I help?"

He waited a moment to see if Tristan would allow him. The boy fidgeted to get out of his mother's hold, Nell placed him back onto the sand. Both watched what Tristan would do next. He took Eric's hand and led him over to the castle.

"I take that as a yes then?" Eric looked back at Nell. He saw a tear glisten in her eyes. Tristan had easily taken to Eric, like he'd known him all of his short life.

Nell joined Eric and Tristan back on the sand. She looked over at Alice, Kamran was buried up to her waist in sand. Alice was making her a mermaid tail and placing shells on it for decorations.

"You're kids are gorgeous." Eric followed Nell's head as she watched her daughter take to Sam's so easily.

"Thanks, Eric." She patted more sand as Eric and Tristan dug and poured more sand on the top. Currently, it was at the same height as Tristan's waist. She had no idea how long this would continue, but while he was focused on this task, looking after him on the beach was simpler.

"I can't get over how easily they've accepted everyone. Kensi, Deeks and Hetty the other day, now Kamran, Michelle and you." Her eyes met Eric's and he smiled.

"I'm glad they have. I've always known you'd make a great mother one day. It seems so natural to see you with them here on the beach building a sandcastle."

She laughed. "You know me better than I do myself. I can't say I envisioned this in my future five years ago."

Eric's visage darkened. Memories of her kidnapping returned tot he forefront of his mind. It had taken him a year of visits to a psychologist, recommended by Nate of course, for him to get over the fear of losing her. Once the news about her and Callen being married, and the threat that placed her in, he'd found it hard not to worry about her. Especially, seeing they had vanished without a trace.

"I'm okay, now, Eric. You don't need to worry about me," she tried to reassure him.

"How can I, after recent events?"

She placed a hand gently on his arm to reassure him. "But we're here and we're safe. No once can find us now."

"Yet you look worried," Eric admitted. He'd seen her worry etched in her brow before she'd seen him arrive on the beach.

She turned and looked over at the waves, crashing evenly on the sandy shoreline. A few surfers were out there making the most of the waves. Tomorrow, it could be flat as a pancake. She knew the waves soothed Callen's soul. During their time on Vancouver Island, they frequented the surf beaches on the western side, for the waves—-a contrast to the many inlets around where they lived in Victoria and on Moresby Island.

Eric stood beside her, his hand rested on her shoulder. "You worry about him."

Her head shifted and she met his gaze. "I can't not worry. It's been so long since we've been this far apart. He's headed for the lion's den over there. If he's found and recognised, they'll kill him." Her voice was barely above a whisper, scared to say her fears too loud, incase they came true or her children heard her.

"I'm struggling not knowing where he is, what's going on. I need the intel on this operation."

"I could use a second pair of eyes. But I don't' know if Granger will allow you back so quickly. And what about your children?"

"I could gain access via a secure laptop, work from the Hanna's."

He squeezed her shoulder. "I'll ask Granger for you."

She looked up, relief spread across her features. "Thanks, Eric. I appreciate this, especially after leaving you like we did, and you still trust me to work with you." She shook her head in disbelief over his kindness.

"We're best friends for ever, remember? Of course I trust you. I understand why Callen took you away. You've been safe for so long…"

"Until someone burned us. I'm still at a loss over how we were found."

"Janvier burned Callen to Kozlov. That much we do know." Eric continued, keeping his voice low.

"But someone found us, and I doubt it was Janvier on his own."

"I agree. I think he'd teamed up with Kozlov's men, that's how come neither you or Callen realised that you were being watched."

Nell agreed, nodding her head. Her eyes scanned the beach, like she was expecting trouble to find them there. She knew that Michelle was carrying, her own weapon sat with its safety switch on in her beach bag. It was hard to hide a weapon in beach clothes.

"It's okay here. I've got agents watching the camera feeds around here, you're safe."

She smiled, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "That's how you found me?"

"No. Michelle sent me a text, telling me where you'd be."

"I'm glad you're here, Eric. I think we should get back to sandcastle building."

However, Tristan had other ideas. Finally bored with the castle building, he decided it was time to jump and smash it apart.

Nell and Eric laughed at the sight.

"He's such a boy. Alice would have been annoyed with him if it had been her work."

At the mention of his sister, Tristan left the demolition of his castle and ran over to where Kamran and Alice were. Michelle sat nearby, watching them, whilst catching up on reading a novel. The peace on the beach had come to an end.

"Tristan, no!" Alice reprimanded her brother. "It took me ages to make the tail."

The smile on Tristan's face told them just how much he enjoyed the demolition work.

"Oh boy!" Nell breathed out. "He's going to be a tease like his father. Time to break up the war before it escalates."

She moved swiftly and swept her two year old off the sand, away from the destruction of his sister's work. She blew raspberries on his tummy, causing a squeal to come from him.

"Shall we jump over the waves?" Tristan loved the water. Although he was good at staying on the sand most of the time, he was known for wandering off, particularly towards the water.


	7. Chapter 7

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

The vehicle finally came to an end location. Callen had lost count on the turns and direction, but he suspected that they were in a rural location, due to the lack of turns over the past hour. He squinted his eyes shut, the sun glared onto his face as Sam opened the boot.

"You okay?" Sam's concern for him never wavered from his features. He didn't like his partner being hunted like this. After all Callen had endured in his lifetime, he needed a break.

"I will be." Callen cringed as he sat up and stepped out of the boot. It took him a moment to adjust his eyes and stretch himself out.

He scanned around him and noticed they were alone. "Where's the other vehicle?"

"They had to take a different route, we can't be seen together. If you and Arkady are seen together, it wouldn't take Kozlov's men much to realise who you are," Gibbs stated.

Callen turned to look at Gibbs. "Are they bringing him here?"

"Mikko had to change his plans. He was supposed to, but now they've headed further north."

Callen scanned the countryside. It was obvious they were in farming country, but from where he stood, they could be in the wilderness somewhere. "Then why are we here?"

Gibbs looked over to Sam. He knew Callen's need to know that Arkady was safe. Hanging around at some other location had no purpose. He had to agree. "I'll speak with our contact here. Let them know what we're going to do."

Callen rested on the edge of the vehicle next to his partner, his arms crossed over his chest.

Sam knew instantly he was erecting old walls around him. "We'll get you there soon enough, G."

Callen stood motionless for a few more moments before he turned his head towards his partner. "How far are we from St Petersburg?"

"Only an hour out."

Callen's brow raised. "Is that all? It felt three times further than that."

"Just be thankful that was all we drove with you in the boot. You can ride in the back for the next bit. Shouldn't be a problem from now on."

"Thanks. I appreciate your careful driving. You know I do. But why did you suddenly stop?"

"Mikko needed to get in contact with us about his plans. He waved us down."

Callen gently rubbed the scratch on his arm, thinking about the bump from earlier.

"That still bothering you?" Sam was quick to pick up the attention Callen paid to it.

"Not really."

"Not really? Is that all you can say, G?"

Callen shifted his attention to the trees that surrounded them. The farm house was old, the barn, even older. He wondered if anyone really lived there, or if it was just a run down place used for such occasions.

"Okay. It's bothering me still. Satisfied?" He looked like a small boy, caught red handed.

Sam pulled him in. "It's okay, G. I'm not going to tell anyone. You can trust me. You should know that by now."

Callen nodded. "I do. It's just if Nell knew, or if Granger found out, I'd be pulled out of here in a moment's notice. And you know right now, I can't leave. Not until I've found my father and taken Kozlov down."

Raised voices caught their attention. It was coming from within the house, Gibbs' was the only one they recognised. A much older man, with white hair and a hooked nose, rushed out of the house, his rifle under his right arm, ready for war.

Callen's hand rested on his weapon at the small of his back, Sam had pulled his own out just in case. Gibbs walked behind the man, he shook his head, to tell them that all was safe. They relaxed, but they furrowed their brows at the man, who was still walking briskly towards them.

Callen stood tall, unsure of the man before him's approach.

"You cannot go to where they've taken Arkady. You must stay here." He spoke in unbroken English, with a hint of an accent.

"We must ensure Arkady is safe," Sam tried to reason with the man before him.

"He is safe. Our contacts are getting him out of Russia soon."

"Then we've got to go," Sam continued. "There is no reason for us to stay here."

The older man turned his attention to Callen, who stood silently beside his partner. He stared at him for a moment. "You are staying here with me."

Callen merely stood in his spot, starring back at the man. This man oozed leadership qualities. He was used to ordering others around him. His blue orbs studied the man. His gut clenched tight and he hitched in his breath.

Sam furrowed his brow, "we have our orders."

The older man turned his attention back to Sam. "You are in my country now, Sam Hanna. You want to get your partner here out alive, you do as I tell you."

Sam gave Callen a sideway glance. Worry for him etched in his brow. "G?"

Callen shifted his eyes back to his partner. "What?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"I am what's wrong with him," the man stated. Both Callen and Sam's heads snapped to attention to the man who'd taken control of their mission.

Sam looked between the older man and Callen. "You going to fill me in here, G?"

Callen struggled to dislodge his eye contact with the man before them. When he looked at Sam, there was a hint of something in his eyes that said it all to him.

"My name is Garrison. You better come inside. You must be hungry. It's much later than you might think, with it being summer and our white nights." The old man left them standing beside the vehicle, walking back into the house.

Now they knew why Gibbs was arguing with their host. He was ordering them to stay. But up until this last moment, Sam hadn't figured it out. And his partner was in too much of a shock to say anything.

Callen decided to follow. All his life, as long as he could remember, he'd searched for him. And right now he had him in his grasp. Half of him wanted to hug him and never let go. The other half, wanted to strangle him for deserting him. Who would desert their children after their mother had been murdered? Yet, even now, there didn't appear to be any concern for him, other than having to do what he said for him to survive. Was that what his life had come to? Only a matter of survival, nothing else? Didn't he deserve so much more? To be loved?

Covering the dining table stood an array of finished and unfinished Matryoshka Dolls. So this is what his father did when he wasn't helping people escape Russia. Was this his cover, as well as the run down farm? He picked one up and studied the artwork. He was a fine craftsman, from what Callen could tell.

"It's just a hobby," Garrison mentioned, as he watched his son look more closely at his work. It helps me with my insomnia. There is only so much one can do when sleep doesn't come to them. I found this hobby helped me the most."

"I practise Russian and pull toasters apart," Callen replied. He looked up and met his father's eyes once more. It seemed they had more in common than just DNA.

"How good are you with your Russian?" Garrison inquired of him. He was surprised his son had taken to his home language as an adult, after growing up in the United States.

"Like a local," Callen told him in perfect Russian.

"Hmm! Your accent is local to Moscow. If I didn't know who you were, I would believer you. That is good. It will help with what we have to do next."

Callen held his hand out to hold onto his father's arm, to keep him from walking away. "You know who I am, but I know nothing about you."

"Yes, I suppose I do know who you are. I've watched you from afar for all of these years. I will not apologise for my decisions—"

"But your reasons matter to me," Callen interrupted.

"My reasons were to keep you safe. You are alive, isn't that enough?" Garrison humphed.

"I may have survived. But that's not living. There's far more a boy at age four deserves from his father." Callen licked his lips. "Especially after he witnesses his own mother's murder."

Anger raged through Callen. He fisted his hands at his side to keep himself from losing control of his temper.

Garrison stood silent for a moment to catch his breath. Just the mention of Clara Callen caused pain to rip through his heart, even after all of these years. He'd lost count of how long he had run from the pain of losing his wife to the Comescus. Laden with guilt, he blamed himself for her death and that of his daughter. Amelia was a beautiful girl, her blonde hair would blow in the wind, softer than silk. Dead at age eleven. He swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat. He would not allow the emotions to emerge. Not now in front of his son.

"But you are alive. That matters." Garrison finally breathed out. His voice was much quieter than it had been previously. And although he tried hard to hide his emotions, Callen saw it in his eyes. Heard it in his voice. Yes, his father had suffered so much over the years. Losing his family had mattered to him.

"I need more than to be alive," Callen urged on. He noticed that Gibbs and Sam had left them alone to walk the perimeter, to ensure they were safe at this location. They realised why they had been sent to this location and not the others. Perhaps Garrison, the name Callen's father now went by, had known that Callen would come eventually, once the news that he was still alive reached him.

"Like my name," Callen continued. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live with a letter for a name?"

"No, I do not. But you were safer not to know who you really were."

Callen snickered. "Safer? Do you think I was safe?"

Garrison turned and stared at his son for a moment. "You were supposed to have been adopted, given a new name, lived a normal and safe life."

Callen took a step back, like he'd been slapped across the face. His father never wanted him. "No one wanted me. A child who didn't know the language or have a name. I was bullied by other kids—-in the orphanage, foster homes, group homes, school, and kids in the neighbourhood. And if that wasn't enough, I was bullied by foster fathers, who only saw me as a pay check and worthy of a broom being whacked over my head." Callen shook his head at his father. "If it wasn't for my guardian angel, I would have died in Juvie Hall."

"Henrietta was a good friend of your mother's. A good woman. She did what she could to help you." Garrison's admission that he'd known about Hetty's intervention, proved that his father knew everything about his life.

"She showed me that I was worth something. No one else had shown me that, well, except for the Rostoffs. But I only got to stay with them for three months, before I was dragged off to another abusive foster home." His raged peeped through the cracks.

"You are worth something, moy syn." Garrison shifted closer to his son. He saw the pain, the rejection and it chipped away inside his heart. "Grisha."

Callen hitched his breath. "Grisha?" His brows raised, shock rippled across his face.

"Grisha Aleksandrovich Nikolaev." Garrison expanded. "You're mother wanted you to know who you are."

Relief washed over Callen. Finally he had his name. He looked back at his father, "why didn't I know my name?"

"It wasn't safe." Garrison sniffed back the emotions from long ago. You were too young to know to keep it a secret. Amelia was so good with you. She kept you entertained while we were busy with our work."

"She called me baby brother."

"Yes. It wasn't safe to say your name. Enemies of mine and that of your mother's would know who you were if they knew your real name. They would realise that we had married and had children together. We could get away with Amy Callen for Amelia. But you, Grisha is a name that stands out in America. We had to hide you both, taking us underground for six years."

"But then someone burned my mother's true identity to the Comescus and you were captured and sent off to the Gulag."

"Yes." Garrison shifted uncomfortably, memories skittered across his synapses, his escape and the pain he'd suffered took hold of him once more.

"But you escaped. Why didn't you come for us? Amy would still be alive. We could have lived together as a family, like families are supposed to." Callen's voice raised higher in pitch, his own pain peeked through.

"I will not apologise for my decisions. I did what I had to do. It wasn't safe for either of you to stay with me. I had to hide."

Callen wanted to call his father a coward. But how could he? His father was a hero. He wondered how many people he had saved through his work, even though he couldn't save his wife and daughter.

"I know about all the people you've saved by helping them escape here and provide them a new life in America. I know about Hans Schreiber. I met him, I saw them—"

Garrison moved to pace the room. He was uncomfortable hearing this story. He'd heard how the Comescus had killed Hans in front of his son, thinking he was him, Nikita Reznikov. But even that name had been an alias. He supposed now he'd told his son his name, he'd figured that out too.

"You know," Callen observed. "Someone told you what happened."

Garrison nodded. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at his son. "He volunteered to watch over you. You were so young, so vulnerable."

"But I survived, like you said." Callen was still hurt by his father's earlier words.

"Yes, you did." Garrison continued pacing, trying hard to push the memories of those he loved and lossed to the back of his mind. "No thanks to me."

"You're trying to push me away again." Callen's eyes widened at the realisation. "You think you can be tough in front of me and pretend I don't matter?"

Garrison stopped in his tracks and began to argue, "I'm—" He quickly closed his mouth, stunned. In a matter of minutes his son had figured him out. Oh he'd heard how good his son was. His own pride had swelled from the news. His own flesh and blood was as good at becoming a ghost like he was. Quick to adapt to new aliases and learn new languages. Hearing just how much he was fluent in his mother tongue made him so proud of him.

"I'm proud of you. Everything you've done, what you've become, I'm proud of you." Garrison admitted, leaving Callen standing there in shock.

Callen watched a myriad of emotions ripple across his father's face. Yes, his father did care about him. Far more than he would ever admit. He shook his head. "For years I searched for my family. I didn't know who you were, if you were dead or alive, or if you cared. I would create scenarios that would prevent you from coming for me. After years of abuse thrown my way, telling me I was worthless, which is why I didn't have a name or a family, I started to believe them. It was Hetty who instilled my worth into me. Not my parents, but a complete stranger. Saying you're proud of me means nothing to me, because to me you are a stranger." He licked his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest, re-erecting his walls. "But it should matter. You are my Papa. The only living blood relative I have left, other than my children. I have been hunted for all of my life because I am your son, and Clara's son. Pushing me away now doesn't matter any more. I deserve to know you, to make you matter to me, and to my children."

Garrison's stared at him, he caught the emotion in his son's eyes. "You have children?" That news hadn't reached him, which surprised him. It had been a few years, five in fact, since word had come to him about his son. He thought perhaps his son had gone underground, taken on a new alias, there was no proof he was dead. But he never expected his son to come out of hiding with a family. History had repeated itself. His brow was deep with worry.

"Yes. A girl, Alice. She's four and a half. Tristan is two. My wife is expecting a third."

Garrison gripped the wall firmly, his legs weekend underneath him. Callen moved swiftly to catch him.

"Are you okay?"

It was only a brief moment, the shock that caught him off guard. Garrison nodded and quickly regained his strength. "Yes. It's just—"

"Sounds too familiar to you, doesn't it? Like you and mom, with Amy and me."

"Yes." Garrison walked over to the kitchen and boiled the kettle. Anything to keep his hands busy. He pulled out a loaf of bread from the bread bin and started slicing. He continued preparing food. Cold meats, home made dips and a salad from the refrigerator. It was too cold in the winter to eat this kind of food, so he made the most of it in the summer months to enjoy them.

Callen watched his father at work on their meal. He wondered what life would have been like if he'd had his father in his life. "I won't let anything happen to them."

"You think I wanted to allow anything to happen to you?" Garrison asked his son. He shook his head. "Don't make my mistake, son. I was too cocky for my own good. I thought I would always be there to protect my family. I thought you were safe. You were suppose to get out, back to the U.S. and be safe."

Callen mulled over his father's words. Worry for Nell and their children grew within him. He knew Granger, Michelle, Deeks and Kensi would take care of them while he was away. But after seeng his father react like his, it worried him just the same.

"We did. I don't know how, but we did. And they separated us. Why were we separated?" He needed to understand the decisions his father had made, to ensure he never made his mistakes. He couldn't imagine losing Nell, even though he almost did when she'd been kidnapped. Nor having his children separated and left in orphanages. His body shuddered at the thought. "I need to know, because I cannot fathom how you could live with your decisions. I certainly could never have my children split apart and placed in orphanages like we were."

"Our situation was different. We were desperate. Everyone we thought we could trust, we could no longer. Someone had burned us—-your mother to the Comescus, me to my government. You—you have your team. They are your family. You have people around you that you can trust. We were out of options." Garrison slammed a mug heavily onto the kitchen bench, as his emotions got the better of him. He continued the act of making a pot of tea.

"You are my family." Callen's words hung heavily in the air. "You say you care. Show me. Come with me to St Petersburg to end Kozlov for good. We can take him down forever, then we can live in peace. You can move to America and be close to us. Get to know me and my family." Callen bit on the inside of his cheek, trying, desperately, to have his father help him, so they can live in peace.

"It won't be easy," Garrison told him. "Oh I know why you are here. They kidnapped Arkady to get to you, and then to me. Don't you think I don't know that?"

"They found us on Vancouver Island. We went underground to hide from one of my enemies. It looks like he burned me to Kozlov. We've just returned to Los Angeles after being hunted like wolves."

"Kozlov found you and your family?" Anger rippled through Garrison. Still to this day, Kozlov continued to hunt him. He thought his last faux death would put a stop to anyone coming after him and his son. How wrong he had been.

Callen nodded. "But we had plans. We escaped a war, my team and Gibbs' team, helped put an end to them."

"This Gibbs." Garrison looked out the window to where Gibbs stood on guard. "He family too?"

"Yes." Callen admitted. "Like an older brother."

"He came here with you before." It was a statement, not a question. Implying Garrison knew about Callen's previous trips to Russia.

"Yes."

Garrison nodded. "Good."

"You two were arguing." Callen watched his father nod in return. "Because we want to move on to where Arkady is?"

"No." Garrison moved the food onto another table, free from Matryoshka dolls. He turned and faced his son.

"Then why?"

"He knew who I was."

Gibbs had looked out for him once more, Callen realised. He'd shown Gibbs on one of his visits to Victoria, the old film strip of his father holding him as a baby. He'd recognised his father, just like he had. Just a much older version.

"He was looking out for you." Garrison continued. "I like you having good people around you, people who won't turn on you for money." Like his friends had done to him and Clara. How much was their lives worth to his friends? he wondered over the years. How can people sell friends out like they had. Even those who had happily helped them in their cause. He had very few friends since then. His ability to trust others was a challenge. And no wonder.

"Hetty's made sure I learned to trust others. It's never been easy to trust, with my history."

"No, I suppose it isn't." Garrison brought the tea pot and mugs over to the table. "You can tell your friends the food is ready."

Callen hesitated. There were so much more he wanted to know, to discover to how he ended up where he did alone. All his father had given him was reasons. Was that all that there was to it? That his father's plans to protect his family had failed, and through desperation, had one of the few he trusted to move them to the U.S. and have them separated for safety and hope for the best? He wasn't sure he was satisfied of the answer. Abandoned to fight for survival in a foreign country, because his father's life had become so bad, that it was better than if he and Amy had stayed with him. He hoped they had more of an opportunity to trust each other enough to get more information. With a heavy heart, he walked out the door to find Gibbs and Sam.


	8. Chapter 8

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **St Petersburg**

Eduard Kozlov looked at the images on his desk. He drank his vodka slowly, absorbing the two people he wanted dead, more than anyone else on the planet. And he had a long list of people he wanted dead.

News that his attempt to lure Nikita's son with the kidnapping of Arkady Kolcheck had failed. The man responsible for the faux pas, laid in a body bag in his basement. He'd personally seen to his death, punishment for allowing that chubby old former KGB officer to escape. He hoped Arkady's body was found soon enough in the Moyka River. There was no possibility that the sixty year old could have survived the bullets that his men had poured into the river after him.

Kozlov rubbed his fingers on his temple. A headache brewed. What if… No. Not possible. That Nikita had come himself and rescued Arkady from him? He shook his head, sharp pain seared his skull. Bad move. But this thought, this tiny possibility that perhaps Arkady had help to escape from his grasps, festered. He picked up his phone and dialled.

"This is Eduard Kozlov. I want all security footage along the Moyka River from today. All of it," he demanded. He could hear the man on the other end of the phone, stutter and beg for time to gather all the footage he requested. He disconnected the call and walked over to his window, that looked over the river in question. It was two hours since Arkady had escaped. His move surprised him. He'd been drugged, he had been weakened, and from what he'd been told, life in Los Angeles had made him weak and lazy. Yet, the former fellow member of the KGB, had proven him wrong. A metal tray as his weapon. And an element of surprise.

He pursed his lips as he continued to stare outside. The sun was still shining brightly. Not surprising considering it was early summer. His plans weren't going well. None of his attempts, whether it be to capture Nikita's son, or to kill him and those he cared for, had come to fruition. He wanted a reaction of some kind from Nikita. But for forty-five years, he'd become a ghost.

"I hate ghosts," he spat out and paced the tiled floor.

The phone rang, causing him to pause in his festering. "What is it?"

"We have the footage you were after. We found something you may be interested in seeing." The man on the other side of the phone call told him.

"What did you see?" He listened carefully, taking in all the information given to him. He crumpled a piece of paper in his hand, as rage tore through him.

"Do we know who this other man is? You said he was of African appearance?"

"Yes."

Kozlov flipped through the photos on his desk. He picked up an image of a man, large build, clean shaven head, and of African appearance. We was hugging Nikita's son. No. It wasn't Nikita who'd come to Arkady's aid, but his son and his friend.

"I want this man's identity and information on who he is, and of any family, if he has any. I want Arkady and this man found." He huffed out a heavy breath and slammed the phone down into its set. So Nikita's son had come after all. His trap had almost worked, if it wasn't for the incompetence of his man in the basement.

The door to his office opened and his head of security stepped through. "We've scoured the river. There's no sign of him anywhere."

Eduard nodded. After what he'd just learned, he wasn't surprised. "We need to find this man." He pushed the photograph of the African man across the desk.

"Do we have a name?"

"Not yet. But we'll have one soon enough. I have someone working on it."

His head of security had come with him from Moscow. He kept him close to wherever he travelled, just incase he needed protection. Not that he couldn't protect himself, but he felt safer and so he could concentrate on more important things. He had numerous enemies he'd racked up over the years, it wasn't surprising that he was chasing Nikita. His men just assumed he was an enemy of the state, and because of this, they were hunting him. But this one had been personal. Nikita had destroyed his happiness a long time ago, when he'd helped a woman he had been in love with, to escape Russia. He'd tried to find her, but to no avail. For this reason, he had this personal vendetta against Nikita. But it helped that Nik had betrayed his country, and the uniform he wore in the KGB. He was an honoured Major, not just anyone. He should have known better. But after Oksana had vanished, he'd discovered Nikita's little secret, burned his woman to the Comescus and had him arrested. He was supposed to have died in the Gulag. Instead, he never made it into the high security prison.

 **OSP, Los Angeles**

Kensi and Deeks were trying hard to keep themselves occupied, working on local cases involving the Navy, while they were half a team. Sam and Callen's absence in Russia was felt by them all, even though Callen had been hiding in Canada for the past five years. But seeing Callen and Nell again had almost felt like they had never left. Except for the addition of Alice and Tristan, and the news that Nell was expecting their third. It was amazing what five years had done to their former team leader and Intelligence Analyst. Normality had changed them, it was almost as if none of the hunting by Janvier and the Russians had occurred, when they looked at this growing family.

They were close, that had been evident from the beginning. Which is why Callen's absence was felt even more. Alice kept asking when Daddy would be coming home. Deeks had convinced Kensi that it would be a great idea to head over to the Hanna's home to distract the kids and Nell from Callen's absence. And for Michelle and Kamran as well, although they were accustomed to Sam's frequent absence due to the job, he'd had additional absences over the past five years, vanishing northward to Vancouver Island as often as he could.

They were about to head out the door after a day of investigating some stolen weapons from the Navy Yard at Long Beach, when Eric appeared at the top of the stairs and whistled. It had been a long time since they'd heard his whistle, and although in earlier days his many unique forms of whistles had become a bit of an annoyance, they agreed that they had missed them.

"We have a problem." Eric had nervous energy, he pushed his glasses back onto his face which was etched with worry.

Deeks and Kensi ran up the stairs, Granger hot on their heels. They entered the tech filled room and furrowed their brows at the image of Sam on the large screen.

"What's going on, Eric?" Deeks inquired, worry for Sam grew deep inside his gut.

"This is what's going on." Eric pulled up the camera footage of Arkady jumping out of a building into a river, then another figure dived in.

"Sam went into rescue Arkady," Deeks muttered.

Then the footage of two men firing into the river had all of them give each other worried looks.

"Have you heard from any of them?" Granger asked Eric. The last he'd heard was when they made contact with Mikko Kurtti.

"They've gone silent. Nothing since Kurtti sent a message through."

"Has there been any chatter from Kozlov?"

Eric nodded. "Someone on Kozlov's books, has been trying to find out who Sam is. I'm not sure if this means they've found him, if he's alive or …"

"Let's continue if Sam is alive, that he helped Arkady escape the river before the gunfire. He's a well trained SEAL, we know what he's capable of doing under the water," Granger told them, hoping, praying, that he was right this time. He knew that if anything happened to Callen or Sam on this trip, Hetty would make him pay, once she was well enough. And he was getting too old for being blasted by Hetty.

Eric's computer beeped. Eric moved and typed away on his keyboard, bringing up a page on the screen. "They're trying to identify him. They only have this photo, it's—-" Eric's voice broke, it was a photo of Sam hugging Callen in Victoria.

"Sam's been burned. If Callen has too, they're in trouble. We've got to get them out of there," Granger advised them.

Another alert buzzed on Eric's computer. Their Technical Operator was highly strung on nervous energy. "Crap!"

"What, Eric?" Kensi prodded.

"Sam's been burned. They've not only found out who he is, but they've found Michelle, Aiden and Kamran." Eric brought the images up onto the screen.

Granger stepped forward and studied them. "These go back to when Sam's family were burned in Sudan. Kahled was behind this then, and it was personal. We thought once he'd died, that Sam's family would be safe. But someone has gotten hold of more copies and now Kozlov has found them."

Granger set his jaw as worry for Michelle, Nell and their kids, as well as his agents abroad set in. "We need to move Michelle and Kamran to a safe house."

"What about Nell and the kids?" Deeks moved to stand next to their agency's third in charge.

"We'll move them all to a safe house until we know Sam and Callen are okay." Granger pulled out his cell and dialled a number. He waited until the person on the other end picked up.

"What the hell is going on over there?" Granger's voice remained gruff as he demanded information. He listened and nodded.

"Is this a secure line?"

"Yes, of course it is," Owen snapped. "Are they're all safe, out of St Petersburg?"

"Yes," Mikko Kurtti responded. "We've just put Arkady Kolcheck and his daughter, Anastasia, into a helicopter, it's taking them to Helsinki, before they transfer onto a jet to fly the rest of the way home."

"What about my agents?"

"They're hiding north of the city. It's too dangerous for one of your agents to be in Russia, let alone in the same city as Eduard Kozlov. What were you thinking sending him here?" Mikko had been surprised to learn that Lucas James was G. Callen.

"He needed to rescue Arkady. He's his last chance in finding his father."

"Well he's gotten his wish. He's with him now."

"He is?" Owen Granger turned his back on his agents and Eric, hoping for more privacy for this conversation.

"How do you know?"

"One of our contacts who helped get them out of St Petersburg knew him as a young boy. We were all heading out of the city to our destination, when a call came though to me, telling me to have your agents go to a different location. It was one of our contacts, a man named Garrison. A loner. But I refused, telling him the importance of getting them to our extracting site immediately. That was when he revealed that he needed his son to come to him."

"You had no idea that this contact was Nikita?" Granger was intrigued how one of their trusted contacts could be Callen's father.

"No. But I'm worried. Worried what Nikita has planned for Kozlov."

"He's not the only one I am worried about. His son can be just as dangerous," Owen admitted.

"You need to organise backup for them. I can no longer help them."

"I will. Thanks." Granger disconnected the call. When he turned around, he saw the expectant faces of his agents and Eric.

"Callen's found his father. They're safe for now. But my contact is worried about what plan Nikita and Callen may come up with to take Kozlov down."

"And Arkady?" Deeks asked, still taking in all what he was told.

"Safe. He's on his way home."

"Good." Deeks ran his hand through his locks and slightly shook it. His blue eyes peeked through and pondered on the situation. "Do you need us to head over there to support Callen and Sam?"

"No. Not this time. I need to make a call. We need a SEAL unit or two for this one. It's much bigger than us, this time." Granger stretched the muscles in his shoulders, he could feel the stress of the past couple of days resting there.

"What do you want us to do then?" Kensi asked, her dark mismatched eyes filled with worry.

Owen wrote an address on a piece of paper. "Take the Hanna's and Callen's to this location. Stay there until you hear from me."

Kensi looked at the address and knitted her brows. "You want us to take them to this location? Isn't this place too far away from L.A.? What if we need assistance?"

"Our Northwest Office can support you on this one." Granger started to walk out of the Ops Centre.

"No way. Not with Agent Sparks in control up there. He hates Callen with a vengeance. Can't we get help from the San Francisco office?" Deeks was not going to leave Michelle, Nell and their kids lives in the hands of Sparks.

Granger turned. "Agent Gibbs told me what happened in Seattle. Sparks has been moved. Agent Hamilton is now running the office."

A hint of a smile formed on the edge of Deeks' lips. "I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when you gave him his transfer papers. Where have you moved him?"

Granger grunted, trying to hide his own enjoyment in moving Damon Sparks out of the Seattle office. He'd been trying for a few years to have him moved, he didn't like the way he treated his staff at OSP. Especially Callen. Being at the top did have its advantages, but he also had to play his cards right. After the incident recently, he had what he needed and an opening elsewhere to move Sparks immediately.

"To our Middle East office in Bahrain." He left them be to make his call to the head of the European Seals' division, for support in Russia.

Deeks' eyes sparkled, as his grin widened. "I think Granger's growing on me."

"Come on, Deeks. We've got a long drive ahead of us." She showed him the address of where they were to take the Hanas' and Callens' to. Bandon was a small town, south of Coos Bay, in Oregan. It sat on the southern edge of the Coquille River, with about three thousand or so residents. A nice slow paced town for them to hide. It sounded more like a vacation destination, than for a safe house. But they didn't argue with Granger on this one, getting Michelle, Nell and their kids to a safe location was the highest priority for the pair.


	9. Chapter 9

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Nell was pleased to see Kensi and Deeks arrive over at the Hanas' after work. She enjoyed their banter and had missed them terribly over the past five years. She also hoped they had some information on Callen, Sam and Arkady. However, she supposed it was too early to hear any news on the Russian yet.

"Hey, good to see you again." She wrapped herself in their arms, taking in their strength and warmth, they provided a comfort she craved with her husband gone.

Deeks' grin spread broadly across his features, like he was up to mischief. He lifted Tristan up high over his head and spun him around. "Whoa! I think I'm getting too old for this," he stated, a lightness had formed in his head and he felt slightly off balance.

Kensi shook her head. "About time you realised you're no longer a kid." Her eyes sparkled, resulting in Nell to relax and join in the fun.

Deeks crouched down low for Alice and Tristan. "We're going on an adventure. Who wants to come?"

Both children lifted their hands above their heads. "Me. Me."

Kensi took this opportunity to pull Nell to the side. "How unpacked are you from arriving here?"

A slight indent between Nell's brows formed. "We came here light. Gibbs was sending more things to us in a couple of days. Why? What's going on?"

Keeping her voice low, Kensi went on to explain. "We need to move you out of L.A. Just to be on the safe side."

Nell's eyes widened, she kept a close eye on her children as her heart began to race. "How far?"

"I can't say. Only that it'll be a few days drive."

"You can't say?" Nell gripped Kensi's arm slightly more than she had wanted.

"We need to make sure where we are taking you to will be safe. I'll tell you soon."

Tristan and Alice squealed with delight as Deeks chased them out of the house to exhaust them. He was well aware of the tiresome journey they had in front of them. Granger was strict in his instructions. They were to drive in two vehicles, not fly. It would take them longer, but they hoped it meant that they would get to their destination without any tails.

"But I have Michelle here with me, we can stay here," Nell tried to reason.

"No, I'm sorry." Kensi lifted her head and motioned for Michelle to join them.

"What's really going on, Kens?" Nell asked.

"This is what we know. Arkady escaped from Kozlov by jumping out a window into a river. Sam was seen diving in to rescue him. We don't have any further footage of them again. However, Granger heard from his contact over there, only half an hour ago. He's confirmed that they're all out of St Petersburg. Arkady is on route home."

"But?" Michelle knew there was far more to the story than what Kensi had told them.

"Someone on Kozlov's books has been snooping, using a photo that was taken of Callen and Sam in Victoria. They've been burned. They've found the information and photos Kahled had on Sam and of the rest of you," she told Michelle.

Michelle stepped back and scanned her eyes for her daughter. "We'll be five minutes packing." She understood the necessity to move quickly. She found Kamran listening to her iPod in her bedroom. After a couple of hours on the beach with Alice, she welcomed the deserved break with her favourite music. While Nell busied with what few items they had with them, Michelle and Kamran had what they needed packed. Sam and Michelle were well experienced in packing fast for emergencies, Kamran had grown up with drills for such situations. This wasn't the first time they had to leave for a safe house. Michelle only hoped they didn't have to stay away as long as last time.

Kensi drove Nell and her kids north, while Deeks drove Michelle and Kamran, constantly switching directions and looking for tails, before driving north onto the Pacific Coast Highway, for Oregon. Granger had arrange for a safe house in Pismo Beach for the night. It was late in the day, so their first day of travel would be the short. For now, it was necessary to get the Hanas' and Callens' out of L.A. before any of Kozlov's men arrived looking for them.

 **Pismo Beach**

Nell thought that this was their final destination. It was a blue painted wooden beach house, nestled in-between trees and shrubs, out of sight from surrounding houses. She stepped onto the rear deck and gazed out over the Pacific. It was such a beautiful location, she couldn't think of anywhere else she'd wanted to stay. Yet, there was something in Kensi and Deeks' eyes, that told her that this location was just for the night.

"It's beautiful here," Kensi stepped up onto the deck to join her, while Deeks ran with the kids out onto the sand.

"Yes, it is." Nell inhaled the salt infused air. It soothed her in the same way it gave her husband comfort. "Perfect timing for a sunset."

The breeze played at Kensi's hair, she'd let out of its ponytail, now they were relaxed by the beach. "We'll have problems dragging them from this place in the morning."

"What time are we leaving?"

"Five. Tomorrow will be a long day. Our next stop will be Eureka on the northern Californian coast."

"How far north are we going?" Nell wondered if they'd end back up in Seattle, she was surprised by Granger's choice in location.

"A small town in Oregon, named Bandon. Ever heard of it?"

A hint of a smile edged her lips. "I've had plenty of time to read since I've stopped working. Ever read any of Robyn Carr's novels, in particular, the Thunder Point Series?"

Kensi shook her head. "I never have the energy to read at the end of the day."

"Well, while we're in Bandon, perhaps you might. The Oregon coastline is beautiful, from what I've read."

Kensi noted that Nell had relaxed, now she knew about their final destination. Perhaps she just might start reading again, this series she mentioned sounded like a good start. She had no idea how long they'd be up there, or how long it would be before Sam and Callen would return.

Michelle brought a fruit platter, dips, crackers and cheese out on a tray and went back for some wine, and water for Nell. "I think that if we're going on a vacation together, then we should celebrate on our first night. Nothing like some good local Californian wine out on the deck." She made herself comfortable at a table, waiting for Kensi and Nell to join her.

"This is the life. I could get used to this," Kensi sighed as she relaxed her body into the metal framed chair.

"You could," Nell agreed. "It didn't take either of us long to get used to normal. In fact, I think going back to what our lives were before this, will be hard."

Michelle shifted in her chair. "But don't you miss the thrill? I know I have."

Nell had heard from Sam and Callen, just how much Michelle wanted and loved going back undercover as Quinn. "Yes and no. I wasn't in the field much like you were, and I've missed the team. Our time away has changed us in a way neither of us expected."

Kensi looked between both women. Both had lived more exciting and dangerous lives before they had become mothers. Being parents was one thing she and Deeks had tried for, but they still hadn't gotten there. She was aware that it was tearing Ellie Bishop and her husband apart. She knew Deeks wanted children, you only had to look at him and see just how much he loves them. And she wanted them as well. But with their line of work, and the stress it brought them, she wondered if she and Deeks could ever make it work. She had to fall pregnant first, to see if they could achieve it. It would require so many adjustments from both of them. She'd have no choice but to go on maternity leave to have the baby. But after the baby was born, would she want to come back, or would she want to stay at home for a while, like Nell was doing? She had no idea how she would feel. All she could go by, was how Michelle and Nell had adapted, and their thoughts on the matter. And would Deeks want her in danger after she'd become a mother? They all knew how much Sam hated Michelle returning to the CIA.

"How are you coping with Callen being away, so soon after coming home?" Michelle had suspected that his trip overseas was worrying her more than it would have if she was working. It was only natural, but after all the years of her experience with the CIA and Sam's work, she was good at putting it all into perspective and trusting Sam and those who he were with, that he would come home to them. Now she had their son away, following in Sam's footsteps. She had to trust that he too would be safe.

In a way, Michelle was envious of them. Ever since she'd become a mother, she'd hardly returned to the field. Sam wanted her home, so their children had her, if anything ever happened to him. But she missed the adrenaline rush. She'd been good. Real good. Especially since she was the only one that could get close to Isaak Sidorov. That was until Janvier burned Sam to Sidorov. She fisted her hands under the table, glad neither of her friends could see how the memory of that Frenchman made the anger build up inside of her. She was glad he was dead. The next time she saw Gibbs, she would thank him personally. She'd almost lost Sam and her own life, thanks to him. But Deeks had come to their aide and saved Sam's life and that of her own, even after all the torture he'd endured to keep her safe.

Nell cleared her throat. It was dry and rough. "Not that great. I miss being in the Ops Centre alongside Eric, not knowing where he is, and what's going on is the hardest. And we miss him. He's not been far from us in five years, it's a first for Alice and Tristan."

"Let's hope they're home soon," Michelle stated. She turned her attention to Kensi.

"Do you know when Sam and Callen will be home?"

"No, sorry, I don't," Kensi admitted.

"They're not coming back with Arkady?" Michelle asked, her body tensed, she was returning to agent mode.

"They're north of St Petersburg. I don't know the location, Granger wouldn't say much." Kensi wondered whether she should share what she'd overheard Granger's part of his conversation. She and Deeks had discussed it earlier, on what to do. They felt that Nell should know. But she wasn't sure how Nell would react to this news.

"Callen's probably searching for his father," Nell advised them. "Arkady was going to help him, that much I do know. But with him being kidnapped, perhaps they didn't want him there, to keep him safe from Kozlov."

"Look, I know I don't have all the facts. We overheard Granger on the phone with his contact."

Michelle and Nell stared at her, their eyes wide, expectantly.

"We think Callen's found his father."

Nell's face brightened. "He has? That's wonderful." For no reason that Nell could explain, tears poured down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away.

"Nell, are you okay?" Kensi asked her with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine. I feel stupid. I don't know why, I think it's the pregnancy hormones."

Kensi pulled her in for a hug. "I'm sure Callen is happy he's found his father, Nell. He'll be bursting to tell you when he returns."

Nell sniffed and nodded. "Yes, I bet. I wonder what his name is?" She wiped her eyes a second time. She hated him being so far away. But mostly she wished she was with him right now, seeing him with his father again after a lifetime of being apart.

"We could take bets," Michelle piped in, trying to brighten things up for Nell. She understood those pesky pregnancy hormones, catching you unaware at any given time. Crying for no reason.

"I'll put a fiver on Gavril," Michelle started. "Any thoughts, Nell?"

Nell heaved out a heavy breath. "Callen and I have talked about this so much. He's wondered if it's George after his grandfather. But if his father is Russian, it's probably a Russian form of George, like Georgy."

"Count me in," Kensi added. "If we're going for Russian names, lets take a look at what we have." She pulled out her cell and searched for male Russian names. "Okay. We have these options. Garry (oh that doesn't sound very Russian), Gennady, Georgy, Gerasim, German, Gleb, Grigory, Garrison, Gustav, Grisha, oh look at this one, Griswold." She laughed, it sounded amusing. "I can't imagine him with any of these names, except for perhaps Georgy, like Nell said. But if we're going to put a wager on this, then, hmm. Garrison." Her eyes sparkled, her lips curved upwards.

"Garrison?" Nell's eyes widened at the name. "Hmm! I'm not convinced. Can I look at that list? I think I need to take more thought on this one. Five dollars was it?"

Nell's eyes scanned over the list. "You know, his name might not be Russian or on this list. But for the fun of it, I'm putting my fiver on Grisha." Pleased with herself, she placed her fiver on the table. She had her husband to thank for this one. Her mobile had vibrated on her lap with a text, without either Kensi or Michelle being aware of it, only moments earlier. His timing was impeccable. "Found my father. My name is Grisha."

A burst of joy washed through her. He seemed happy. She rolled the name over her mind a few times and nodded. Yep. A good name. "What does it mean?"

Kensi scrolled back to the name. "To be awake or watchful."

All three women looked at each other at the same time. "No way. That is Callen to a tee," Kensi remarked. "That has to be his name. If it isn't then it should be. But, I'll keep my bet on Garrison. I too like that name. I think it would suit him."

Michelle laughed. "We should do this more often. This is fun. Any plans tomorrow night, ladies?"

Nell yawned. "I might not make it after a full day's driving, but if I am, then yes. We should get together with nibbles again. But without the wine for me, until this baby comes." She couldn't wait to be alone and to respond to his message. She was desperate to talk to her husband. Finally, he had found his father and his name. She knew she would sleep better tonight, now that she'd heard from him.


	10. Chapter 10

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **North of St Petersburg**

The property was clear of danger. For the moment, anyhow. Although the sun never seemed to sink below the horizon, and the air stayed warm, there was a chill inside the old farmhouse. A fire crackled within the stone fireplace, taking the chill off the living room. Callen sat and stared at the fire dancing before him, almost entrancing him. He was distracted. Thoughts of his wife and children came rushing back to the forefront of his mind, like torrential rain. He'd smiled at the sweet message Nell had sent him. He could tell she was missing him, but she was also happy for him. He'd wanted more than to message her. To hear her voice and to hold her in his arms.

It was early hours, around 5am, he was alone and well rested, after what he only could describe, as a peaceful sleep. He felt safe and comforted, unlike he'd felt in a long time. He now had a name, Grisha Aleksandrovich Nikolaev. He was tempted to research his family name, find out more about his father's family. He knew a little about his mother's, about George Callen being part of the OSS, helping King Michael in Romania. It was what started the Comescus' hunt on all known bloodline of his grandfather's. But there remained too many gaps, too many unanswered questions about his family on all sides. He wondered what happened to his grandmother, his mother's mother? Still he didn't have a name for her. Perhaps his father could answer this for him.

A creak on the floorboards caught his attention, his head lifted and turned. His father stood there, watching him.

"I am sorry," Garrison started. "I am usually awake and busy by now. It's not common for me to have guests that stay overnight."

Callen nodded, he understood that only too well. "I've checked the perimeter about twenty minutes ago. It's all clear."

"Good. You must be hungry. Did you sleep well?" Garrison knew this was only small chat. He was well aware that his son had many questions about himself and about family.

"I did. Thanks. You sit, I'll make us something," Callen stood to head for the kitchen, but his father held out his hand to hold him back.

"Please, let me. It's been too long since I've cooked for you."

"I'll help." Callen followed his father into the kitchen. The stone walls of the house were mostly around the fireplace and the kitchen area. He busied making a pot of coffee. He knew that Gibbs would be expecting a pot brewed for when he awoke. It didn't take him long to figure out where the mugs were.

"Did you build this house, or have you only lived here a short while?"

Garrison busied his hands, placing bacon in a pan and started frying it. He cut bread up into slices and placed them into the toaster. A hint of a smirk formed at the edge of his lips. He'd waited longer than he could count for this moment. Once the shock had settled, his son was ready to ask him questions without the pain of rejection hinting in his voice. They were relaxed and refreshed after a solid night's sleep. His son wasn't the only one who'd slept through the night.

"I've only been here for two years. This house is much older than I am." He cracked a couple of eggs into another pan. "I've moved around too many times to count."

"Hetty found your tombstone for me. I thought you were—-"

"Dead?" Garrison finished for him. "So Henrietta figured it all out." He pulled out four plates and hoped Sam and Gibbs would be awake soon. The smell of bacon frying would surely bring them out of unconsciousness.

"Konstantine Chernoff." Callen identified.

"And the one before that?"

"Nikita Reznikov. That was the name Comescus had."

Garrison nodded. "It was the name I had whilst I was in the KGB. But it wasn't my real name, as you now know. It was a disguise to get into the KGB, to allow me to move around to help people get out from behind the iron curtain during the sixties."

"How did you meet my mother?"

His smile broadened, thinking about those early days. "She was in Romania, a student, with a different name. She was so beautiful, she took my breath away. I had someone I needed to help in Romania, it was when I first saw her. I knew about the Comescus, that they were a bad crime family to get mixed in with. The person I helped, had to flee from them. I gave them a new identity and helped them on their passage into the States. She saw me help them, and asked if she could help me." Laughter escaped his throat. "She was a determined woman. And I was instantly in love with her. Of course I knew that she would never be the stay at home wife, looking after the children. She had this drive to help others, a need to succeed in all that she did. But when your sister came along, she loved her with all her being. After we were married, she told me about why she was really there, and with Amelia, it was impossible for her to continue her work. So we went underground for a while."

"Why was she there?"

"Hetty never told you?" His brow arched high in surprise.

"No. But she did tell me that the two of you married for an assignment. I met her inside the church where your fake wedding took place."

Garrison took in a deep breath and placed the egg and bacon onto the plates, and the toast into a basket. "Aah."

"But she never knew you as Nikita, or your link to my mother until the Comescus had Michael Rhinehart, and forced him to tell me he was you."

"I became a ghost. Now and then I would reappear as someone else. I've lost count on the aliases I've taken on. My life and those I helped depended on it."

"I get that. I know what you've done. Arkady helped Hetty put some more pieces together after Rhinehart was murdered in front of me."

Garrison gently squeezed his shoulder for comfort. "You saw your mother murdered by Comescu. Then you thought they murdered me in front of you. No child should ever see that happen. Not at four, or at forty-four."

"But I needed you. Amy needed you. Didn't you have any family you could have placed us with, instead of being abandoned in separate orphanages?"

Garrison's body tensed. He busied himself taking the plates over to the table. He looked back at his son. "No. No family. They'd all been murdered by our government before I was eighteen. Why do you think I made the choices I made? Do you think it was easy for me to let you and your sister go and never see you again?" Emotion crept through the cracks.

Callen shook his head. "I had no idea. I knew nothing. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, moy syn," Garrison responded. "But I am sorry for everything you've suffered. Right up to you and your family being hunted by Kozlov and his men. It's time for us to end this. So you and your family can live in safety and continue on our bloodline."

"Will you come back with me to Los Angeles and meet your grandchildren?" Callen choked on the emotion that rippled through him. He worried that once this mission was over, that he'd never see his father again.

Garrison pulled his son into his arms. "If I live through this, I promise you that I will go home with you."

The creaking of floorboards brought their attention to Gibbs and Sam's presence. "Is that bacon I smell?" Sam quipped, being aware they'd entered in on a very private moment between father and son.

"Sure is," Callen replied. "And there's fresh coffee brewed too."

"Good." Gibbs stated as he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself his first drink of the day. From what he had observed, Callen and Garrison had talked through a great deal, and progress had been made. Now they could focus their attention on what they needed to do next, end Kozlov.

* * *

The four of them stood around the dining table with a map laid out and Garrison going over their plan of attack. They knew Kozlov would be looking for them. Particularly, Callen and Arkady. They hoped the element of surprise of them coming to Kozlov with the intention of attacking him face on, would be to their advantage. There were only four of them, to the twenty or so men Kozlov kept close to him at all times. But if he'd sent them out in search for them, they could be in smaller numbers. Making Kozlov vulnerable.

Garrison laid out their approach to Kozlov's mansion beside the Moyka river. If they approached it from the east, they had the advantage. The north was impenetrable, due to the river, exposing them. But Sam had other ideas, which he openly discussed with Garrison. He wanted to enter via the river, unseen. Get inside before they entered from the east side. He told him what Anastasia, Arkady's daughter had discovered. Manholes below the waterline that went in underneath Kozlov's property. This was his weakest point.

But Garrison wouldn't allow it. "We stay in pairs. If we separate, it'll make us vulnerable. I need you to stay close to Grisha. I'm counting on you to have his back, for him to make it out of this alive."

An alarm sounded, Garrison pulled out his rifle and walked over to the window. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and studied the surrounding area. All four men went on alert, they stood at different windows, in search of who set the perimeter boundary alarm off.

Sam's cell beeped. He picked it up and answered it. "Dad."

"Aiden?"

"My unit is outside. Can you lower your weapons?"

"It's okay. It's our people. SEAL team two." They lowered their weapons and exited the house. Sam wrapped his arms around his son. He was as tall as he was and had muscled up, but he still looked small compared to Sam.

"Glad you're okay. Granger sent us to support you. Mikko Kurtti told him you'd found Callen's father and that you were planning on taking down Eduard Kozlov."

"That's right." Sam stepped back and allowed Callen to hug Aiden.

"Uncle Callen."

"It's Grisha." Callen told him, his smile broadened across his features. "Come and meet my dad." Callen led him over and introduced Aiden to Garrison.

The rest of SEAL team two, shook Sam and Gibbs' hands and entered the house to be filled in on the plan. Now Sam had a team of SEALs at his disposal, Garrison was happy for him and Aiden to ender via the river. The rest of the SEAL team would hang back for support, one of their snipers was to support Gibbs up on a rooftop, overlooking Kozlov's mansion. If Kozlov even came close to a window, Gibbs had the order to take him out. He had the President's approval, seeing Kozlov had ordered an attack on U.S. agents in Canada.


	11. Chapter 11

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Callen was certain they'd never get near the mansion, without being caught by one of Kozlov's men. The surrounding streets around Kozlov's St Petersburg's residence appeared too quiet for his liking. Something was up, and he didn't like it at all. His gut clenched tight. He'd expected armed men to be positioned around the property. But today, the place looked abandoned.

He waited with the Seal Commander, in the shadows of a nearby building. Gibbs and another sniper had an eagle's eye on the property, while Sam and Aiden entered via the river. His father, from where he could pin point, was inside a nearby cafe, drinking a cup of coffee whilst reading the local paper.

Callen's nerves were on tender hooks. He'd been five years away from the action and his adrenaline was flooding his system. The earwig was switched on, he could hear Gibbs talk about all that he could see. There was movement in the upper floor of the property. Someone was home. He hoped it was Kozlov. With him dead, there wouldn't be anyone out to kill him or his father. They could go home and live a happy and safe life. Well, as much as it could be, seeing the work they did for a living. But the dark shadows of the past could be put behind him for the first time in his life. There were no more Comescus daring to come his way to cause trouble, not after the last incident in Los Angeles, where more of the Comescus had been killed. He wasn't sure if there were any of them left. And if there were, did they even care about their family vendetta anymore? It had hit the Romanian Crime family too hard. He and his team had fought back and won. And with Janvier dead, now he had one last enemy. This time, his father's greatest enemy.

 **Los Angeles**

Firetrucks, police vehicles, a SWAT team and the media flocked to a quiet location in Los Angeles. The yellow painted wooden house was sprayed with bullets. The neighbourhood ran for cover, calling for help. The neatly trimmed garden was a mess. Summer blooms had been destroyed by the spray of bullets. Whoever had come to attack this house, had no intention of leaving survivors.

LAPD Detective, Jeff Versey, dialled his cell. The cornered off area about the property was surrounded by curious onlookers, now the police and SWAT team had arrived, the neighbourhood deemed it safe to come outside.

"Hey, Deeks. Are you nearby?"

Marty Deeks pressed his phone on speaker as he drove over the Golden Gate Bridge. "Hey, Jeff. This better be good, because I'm missing out on the best view of our state right now."

"You still talking about your wife like that?"

Deeks chuckled. "Oh you're funny. No. Never mind. I can't tell you where I am anyway, otherwise I'll have to kill you."

Jeff Versey shook his head, "another undercover mission, huh?" He understood what Deeks' job with NCIS involved, more than anyone at LAPD. His close involvement with Deeks had him on the suspect list on one occasion, and he'd aided his team on a few cases. This current one that had landed on his lap, screamed NCIS.

"Yeah, something like that. What's up?"

"You're friend, Sam. Do you know where he and his family are?"

"Yes, I do." Deeks gave Michelle a sideway's glance. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm at the Hannas' house. It's a mess. Someone went on a shooting rampage."

Michelle grabbed Kamran's hand in the back of the vehicle and gently squeezed it for reassurance. After this, there was no doubt, they would have to move. Their secret life in the suburbs had been exposed too many times, thanks to Tahir Kahled.

"Call Owen Granger. He's the best person to talk to. I'm sorry I can't help you. All I can tell you, is that the Hanna family are safe."

"Okay. That's good to know. One of the neighbours said she'd heard young children playing in the garden only yesterday. But the house had been quiet this morning, before chaos erupted the quiet neighbourhood."

"As far as I know, they're on vacation at the moment, being summer and all."

"Yes, of course. Well that's good to know. From what I've seen, there was no evidence of blood inside the house. I'll let you get back to your amazing scenery and call Granger."

"Thanks for the call, Jeff." Deeks disconnected the call and whistled through his lips. "That was too close."

"Thanks for getting us out of there, Marty." Once again the detective had saved their lives.

"I'm glad Eric discovered what was going on. I don't know where we'd be without him. Mention none of this to Nell, I'll tell Kensi on the quiet later."

Kamran nodded her head, she understood the situation better than most teenagers would have, in a similar situation. She hated to think what damage had been done to their home. She needed a distraction. She placed her earplugs back into her ears and turned on her music. She found the music soothed her, and she hoped it helped her forget what she'd just heard.

 **Office of Special Projects**

It didn't take long for the reports of the attack on the Hannas' family home to come through to Owen Granger. The FBI wanted involvement, but Owen had told them to butt out. This was an NCIS case. This was an attack on their agent and his family, not to mention the attack on the Callen family as well up in Canada.

He was grumbling under his breath, when his cell buzzed again. "Yes," he snapped.

"Is that a way to greet an old friend?"

"Henrietta, what are you doing calling me?"

Henrietta Lange sat in her hospital bed feeling the best she had since being shot, a week earlier. Was it only that long ago. Time was flying faster than she could keep up. She'd slept long enough and now she'd seen the media coverage outside one of her agent's home.

"Perhaps I should be the one asking the questions, Owen. What in the world is going on in Los Angeles. In particular, at Mr Hanna's home?"

Owen heaved out a heavy breath. He'd hoped she'd sleep through all of this and it would be sorted before she got wind of it. He should have known better.

"Beale found someone on Kozlov's books, snooping. They had a photo of Sam and Callen in Victoria. They dug deep into finding out who Sam was. Apparently those photos Tahir Kahled had on Sam and his family are still floating out there. I thought we solved the mystery of the mole, Henrietta."

"Apparently not." She pursed her lips. They'd looked hard and deep for the mole. When they thought they'd found him, he'd close his mouth and refused to say who he was working for. They'd heard nothing for five years, the length of time Callen and Nell had gone underground. She shook the thought from her mind. There was no way either of them were involved. Why would they risk the lives of the team for money? She was certain it wasn't Callen. Sam was his brother and best friend. There was no way he was involved. And she'd personally hand picked Miss Jones and watched her as she grew, before she brought her into the fold. No, it was just a coincidence. But the mole was still out there, and whoever they were, once she got her hands on them, they'd wish they'd never been born. It was obvious they were the ones responsible for revealing Callen and Nell's location in Victoria, even though she couldn't find them. They were good. Real good. But one slip up, and she'll have them ripped to pieces in a single breath. She sighed with relief. Of course neither of them were involved. They were victims in all of this. And now the Hannas' family home had been leaked and attacked.

"I had Deeks and Blye take them to a safe location. Don't worry," he stated, when he heard hear sigh on the other side of the phone. "They've taken them to a safe place, that only I know about. And we both know I am not the mole."

No, he definitely wasn't the mole, considering he had been poisoned and almost died. "Good. So you're telling me, that whoever was after Mr Callen and his family in Canada, is behind this latest attack?"

"Yes."

"And what is the status of Mr Callen and Mr Hanna?"

"Safe, and active. They have support, a SEAL team with them." Owen looked at his watch and nodded to himself.

"SEAL team two?"

"Yes."

"Are you aware that Mr Hanna's son, Aiden, is part of that team, Owen?"

"Yes, I am."

"And you were happy for Aiden to work with his father on this mission?"

"Yes, of course I am. They have an advantage, Henrietta. Arkady escaped. Sam helped him and he's on his way home. Kozlov won't expect this attack. He's obviously too busy sending his men to Los Angeles to attack the Hanna's empty home."

"Please keep me apprised of the situation over there, Owen."

"I will." He disconnected the call, and breathed out heavily. He scanned the mission. He'd been careful what he'd said, although he hoped that if there was still the mole inside these walls, that they hadn't heard his conversation with Hetty.

His mind wandered. He'd spied on all the support staff over the past five years to see if any of them were the mole. Someone was still accessing OSP's secret information. He shook his head. How many times did his number one team suffer at the hands of this mole? He scribbled on the notepad on his desk. Since they'd become aware of the mole, Hetty, himself, and Sam had been the main targets. It was obvious someone had provided Hetty's houses onto the Dark Net. They had found the culprit for his poisoning, they'd lost someone in accounts, who'd been murdered when it all came to a head. But what they hadn't expected, was that this person wasn't working alone. They were all at threat. Could this mole have divulged information about Callen and Nell's whereabouts in Victoria to Janvier and Kozlov? He looked at his scribbling. He'd circled Callen's name. Around it was his own, Hetty's and Sam's. Could this all be about Callen? Could the mole be working for Kozlov, in his attempt to lure Callen's father out of hiding? Could that be what this is all about?

He needed a scotch. He pulled open Hetty's draw and poured himself a drink. It wasn't the same without his drinking partner. He and Hetty went a long way back. Both had done what they could to keep Callen safe. He'd join OSP to help protect Callen, after he'd gone after Hetty to rescue her from the Comescus. That should never have happened. Too many had risked their lives to protect him all this time. They owed it to Clara to keep her son safe. He owed it to Clara to find the mole, so Callen would remain safe. But what had he'd done? He'd sent him back into the lion's den, to face Kozlov head on.

He must be losing his touch. He'd only sent Callen to St Petersburg to rescue Arkady. That was all. But now he'd found his father, and they were planning a surprise attack on Kozlov. He was torn. What if Callen, Sam and Nikita all died in this attempt? He knew Gibbs had gone to help Callen. Leon had advised him on that. And he was pleased. Thankful that he'd gone. But why hadn't he gone as well?

He was needed here. While Hetty recovered from almost dying, OSP needed him to captain the ship. While he was here, he needed to find out who divulged the whereabouts of the Hannas' family home, and deal with them, before any more of his people were killed because of them.


	12. Chapter 12

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Los Angeles**

It was important for someone from NCIS to appear at the Hanna household. Owen Granger decided it should be him. He'd never been inside the home before now, and he'd always envisioned it to be clean as a whistle. Someone like Sam Hanna, a former Navy SEAL, would have everything in order. And from what he knew about his wife, Michelle, she wouldn't have it any other way. She was precise in her work in the CIA, their family home would be no different.

But now, as Owen stood in the living room, the home was a mess. Glass shattered onto the floor and furniture, intermingled with splinted wood and broken plasterboard. Photo frames were barely hanging on the picture hooks, the cream sofa's fabric torn with signs of the stuffing billowing out.

There was evidence, as his crime scene team told him, that whoever had come here, had broken inside the house, before the shower of bullets were pumped into the home. Obviously they had been frustrated that the house had been empty of its occupants. Footprints on the rear garden bed outside the master bedroom for one. The broken door latch in the french doors was proof of entry. Then whoever had entered, had trashed the place. The wardrobe doors hung open on one hinge, clothes scattered on the floor and the secret safes where Sam and Michelle kept all their money, passports and weapons were exposed—-but not broken into. The Hannas' had invested in the best, whoever had come in here, weren't experienced for breaking into safes. Else he was certain, they too would be hanging open.

He dialled his cell and waited for the receiver to pick up.

"Hello!" Marty Deeks' voice echoed over the speaker phone.

"Pass me over to your passenger." Owen was careful not to divulge who he was speaking to.

"It's on speaker phone."

"I don't want this to be on speaker." Owen knew well that Kamran was in the vehicle with them and this he needed to keep from her.

Michelle grabbed the cell and switched off the speaker button. "Owen."

"Tell me you've taken all personal and important documents with you."

"They broke into our safes?" Her brows knitted together, surprised by this. They'd bought the best and knew who to buy it from with a good discount, seeing who they worked for.

"No. Not that I can see from how your home was left, but they've left your house in a mess. I'm sorry."

"They did more than shoot at it then?"

"You know?"

"Jeff Versey called Deeks before calling you."

Owen nodded his head. Of course he should have known that. Versey and Deeks went way back, and Deeks was still the LAPD liaison. "Yes, of course. Did you take everything important."

"Don't worry, Owen. We have everything we need in a safer place and the rest we have with us."

Owen thought about the family's bunker. Perhaps that was where their important paperwork was kept for safe keeping.

"No laptops or computers left here then?"

"You know us, Owen. We're thorough." Michelle paused for a moment. "How bad is it?"

"I don't doubt that for one moment. I'll have our team send the pictures through to Deeks. It's bad."

Michelle heaved in a heavy breath, her hand shook. This was personal. Kozlov was not someone to take lightly. The impact of the attack on the Callens' in Canada hit her hard. "We will be safe where we're going, right? No one in the agency knows about this?"

"Only myself and those with you. You'll be safe," Owen reassured her.

"You know I am still able to protect myself and my daughter, but Nell, I worry what this will do to her baby, and her kids are too little."

"Which is why you are going somewhere safe. See it as a paid vacation. Enjoy it, make everyone feel it too. Especially the kids. And don't mention any of this to Nell. I agree, she's worrying enough about Callen, she doesn't need this as well."

"I'm with you on that one. Thanks for the call." Michelle disconnected and looked out the window. They'd just driven through Santa Rosa, they wouldn't see the coast again until they arrived at tonight's destination, Eureka. The region was dominated by Redwood forests, much of it had been logged during early settlement, but you could still see the remaining forests from the car. It was this sight that helped calm Michelle's nerves. In all her working career with the CIA, never had she encountered a personal threat on her family such as this one. This was worse than the threat from Tahir Kahled.

"Mom. Are you okay?"

Her daughter's voice brought her out of her thoughts. She turned and gave her a smile. "I'm fine, sweetheart. We're all fine."

"I know we are, but our house. How bad—-"

"We can fix it up, it's not important." Michelle tried to convince her daughter as well as herself. Fix it up to sell, she told herself. She doubt if she could even spend another night in the beautiful house they'd made their home.

"I don't think I can go back," Kamran admitted. "Not after this. Can't we move?"

A slight chuckle escaped Michelle's throat, her daughter mirroring her own thoughts and feelings. "Yes. I think we have no choice but to move."

Deeks' mind wandered through all of this, keeping his thoughts to himself. He'd always looked to Sam and Michelle as what it could be for him and Kensi. Raising kids and still working for NCIS. But his mind whirled out of control with many what if factors. The threat on the kids was high, even when they worked hard to keep what they really did a secret, and hid in a quiet leafy suburb. Perhaps it was a good thing that Kensi hadn't fallen pregnant. Maybe it was for the best. His heart cracked at the seams. But why couldn't they have kids? He wanted them, but he was torn, he didn't want to bring kids into this kind of world, where it was crazy and dangerous. Especially with men like Eduard Kozlov around.

* * *

Owen Granger left the mess at the Hannas' home behind and climbed into his vehicle. Careful of possible tails, he drove in a wayward direction and pulled up beside the Will Rogers State beach. He stepped out of his vehicle and stood overlooking the Pacific. He took in the salt infused air. There was little in the way of waves today, but enough wind to bring many sail boats out onto the water. He watched them for a while, hoping it would erase the memories of what he'd seen.

The attack on the Hanna home had hit him hard. What if that had been his wife and kids? Not that they wanted to have anything to do with him these days, now that they were grown up and living their own lives. It was only him and his wife now. He kept his home secret. No one knew where he lived, not even the team or Henrietta. Which is why he was certain how his home had remained safe from the mole. His wife travelled east every month to visit their children, none of whom had time to visit them in Los Angeles. Not that he could blame them, or wanted them here. He didn't want them in this kind of danger. He'd worked hard to keep them safe when they we're little, he didn't want to bring this onto his children now, when they had their own families to think about. He'd not seen any of them since last Thanksgivings, even then, he'd worked in a trip to D.C., so no one at work would realise why he was over there. Usually he was good at shutting that part of his life out, but right now, he couldn't think about anything else, but his family.

Shouting on the beach pulled him out of his thoughts. A mother trying to draw her children out of the water—-nothing for him to worry about. But one thing he did need to do—-he needed to clear his mind so he could think about who this mole was. He took in a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes. This was a side of him he never showed to those he worked with. It was how he met his wife in the first place. She taught people meditation, to get rid of the stresses in their lives. He'd been sent there in his early years with the CIA. Little did anyone who worked with him realise, just how much those sessions changed his life. Maura had an ability to chip away at his tough exterior and melted his heart. He'd fallen in love with her sooner than he would let on. He fought it all the way, but Maura kept tapping away at that stonewall, and eventually, he let his defences down for her. She had clearance, so she knew what he did for a living, but they'd managed to keep it from their kids, once they were old enough to become curious to why he travelled so much.

He'd made it boring, telling the kids he worked for a pharmaceutical company and was needed to travel all over the country to visit various hospitals. It was a good cover, and his children appeared to accept it even into adulthood. His wife went along with the lie, knowing how much he couldn't tell them. And instead of allowing the lie to fester inside of him, she provided a good reason why he had to keep it in place. She was as good of an actor as he was with the lie. But it had kept them all safe. At least he hadn't had someone like Kozlov or Kahled, pay for information about his life and place his wife and kids in danger.

Now the Callens and Hannas needed him to clear his mind and focus. Find that mole. He sat on the embankment and pulled out his notepad. If Callen was the centre of this mole, and those closest to him had been a target, then it had to be someone in NCIS who disliked Callen a great deal, to go along with Kozlov.

It hit him with a force that almost winded him. How could he not have seen this before now? How many years had they been looking for this mole and he was in sight all this time. He quickly jumped into his sedan and headed for the office. He needed Beale to help him gain proof, and to take him down.

 **St Petersburg**

Eduard Kozlov sat in the brown leather chair, behind his King Louis VXI desk with gold trimmings on the edge and legs. Here he felt like the king of Russia. He may only be the Defence Minister for his country, and he was careful to respect his leader down in Moscow, but up here in St Petersburg, he reigned. At the snap of his fingers, people scurried and did what he demanded. If they didn't, they knew that their life was over. His reputation proceeded him in this city, the home of his birthplace.

He'd inherited this mansion from his father and grandfather before him. It had been in his family for four generations. It was unfortunate he did not have a child to leave it too, when it came to the end of his life.

His rage returned. Nikita Reznikov was the blame for this problem of his. He wanted the woman he'd loved since the moment he saw her. Oksana was beautiful. Her blonde hair hung low below her shoulder blades, soft as silk, her skin like cream. She was a delicate creature, and she had been his. Until Nikita helped her escape his grasps. He'd spent forty-five years in search for her. It took him a long time, but after his long and thorough search, and when he finally had news that he'd found her, he was too late. She'd died the previous year in an automobile accident.

His heart shattered and a bitterness grew deep inside of him. He wanted revenge. The only problem was that Nikita Reznikov had vanished like a ghost. He restarted his search on the former KGB Major with no results. It took him years of nothing, until news of his death reached him. It was the year of 2010, when he'd found this out. Nikita had changed his name and he'd found his grave outside of Moscow, under the name of Konstantine Chernoff. He had proof provided to him that this Chernoff was the name Reznikov had lived by, ever since he'd escaped the gulag.

Kozlov had retuned to his life as Defence Minister, dated beautiful women, but none of them were Oksana, nor provided him an heir. Then word came, like a sparrow chirping on a window sill, out of no where, he heard that Nikita Reznikov was indeed still alive. This news had given him a purpose. A new drive to seek him out, before it was too late. He was getting old, he was in his late sixties, and he needed to do this while he still had the position of Defence Minister. It gave him the manpower to aide in his search, and it gave him the resources to seek out any family that Nikita may still have out there.

That was when a Frenchman, Marcel Janvier, told one of his men about a Federal Agent in the United States. A man named G. Callen. It wasn't much of a name for anyone to live with, but he'd believe this story, because he'd burned another Callen to the Comescus, back in 1974. Clara Callen. The daughter of an OSS officer, George Callen. Could this G. Callen be Nikita and Clara's son?

That had begun a new search and possibilities. He looked for people's weaknesses, and then he'd found someone willing to provide information to him on this G. Callen. He'd been warned that he was well guarded, but he mentioned that he could get someone into that office to find out more about this mysterious G. Callen. Very little was known about him. So he ordered this contact to hurt those helping to protect him. Weaken the defences. That was when his contact managed to get someone inside in the IT department. He had access, and slowly but surely, things began to fall apart at the office where this G. Callen worked. The Assistant Director was slowly poisoned. Someone in accounts murdered. A sly smile appeared across his features. The infamous Henrietta Lange's properties' addresses sold on the Dark Net. Reports that another agent's personal life had been sold to Tahir Kahled, who wanted his own revenge on this man, thanks to their inside help.

Although his contact's person on the inside had been found out, he'd gone to prison without talking. Which in turn protected his contact. But the news in front of him was not good. His contact had sent him a message telling him that he'd been transferred to the middle east.

His rage returned. This was not good news at all. Now he had no contact inside, and each of his attempts to capture or kill Nikta's son had failed. Only five minutes earlier, he'd made the call for this contact to be eliminated. That would teach him a lesson, he thought to himself. There was no room for error. Too much of that was happening, and he would not accept it.

The door opened, his head of security entered. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Eduard Kozlov motioned for him to sit. "We have a problem. Our contact inside of NCIS has been transferred. We need to speed up our attack, or else our last chance in taking Nikita Reznikov down, will be lost." He flipped a pencil through his fingers as he studied his head of security. Fedor Poleski had been loyal to him from the beginning of his search for Nikita. Now his son, Boris, carried on in his stead. He'd worked for him for ten years and he'd not once let him down. Like his father, he'd pleased him well.

"What do you want me to do?" Boris leaned forward, waiting for his next instructions.

"I have arranged for our contact's settlement. I need you to head to Los Angeles. It appears our men out there are incompetent. They've not only failed to find any of this agent's family, they caused quite a scene when they got carried away with their automatics. I want someone to work quietly, and to not leave a trail."

Boris nodded. "When do I leave?"

"Tonight."


	13. Chapter 13

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **Meanwhile in the Moyka River**

Sam and Aiden Hanna began their dive from the Neva River and swam deep within the depths until they reached their destined location in the Moyka River. So far, no one suspected their appearance, except for the two members of Aiden's team, who were casually travelling down the river as if they were on a leisurely cruise. Previously, Sam had only seconds at this point of the river, he'd been in action mode to get Arkady out of there the day before. It was a good thing he'd seen him jump in, because it wasn't long before they'd moved upstream, when they'd heard the rain of bullets into the river. Now he could see the hatches to the secret tunnels that Anastasia had told Callen and Gibbs about. Perched on either side of the largest manhole, Sam and Aiden got to work, using their tools to unlatch the hatch. It was hard work in the water, with nothing but the concrete wall beside them for leverage.

After fifteen minutes of hard physical work, the father and son team had the hatch open and were moving themselves through it, into the basement of Kozlov's property. They'd gone in without access to a map of the property, they had no choice but to be ready to fight their way out of the basement, if it was locked—-especially after hearing the story Arkady had told. Another hatch welcomed Sam as he pushed his way upwards. The tight spot did nothing for his claustrophobia. He concentrated on the task at hand, thankful he didn't have his partner below him making jesting comments. Like himself, Aiden preferred to remain quiet in such conditions. With a light beam perched on his head, he was able to see clearly what he needed to do to open it. After five minutes of twisting the hatch, it budged.

Sam released his mouth piece and goggles, and lifted himself out onto the cold stone floor. It was dark inside the room, but his light beamed onto a shape on the other side of the basement. A body. Typical for a man with Kozlov's reputation. He pulled Aiden up into the basement and quietly motioned for the door. Pulling their weapons, an assault rifle out of the waterproof bag, with their knives and pistols strapped on their legs, they moved out of the basement and up the stairs. Here they had a great view of the river, where Arkady had jumped out, only the day before. Yet now, there was no evidence of the window ever been broken.

"Eagle inside," Sam whispered into his comms. They moved stealthily through the lower floor.

"Target on top floor," Gibbs called through. His companion had confirmation that Eduard Kozlov was indeed in the room on the top floor. Their mission would have been easier if they'd been able to access a plan of the property. But sometimes they just didn't get that lucky.

After five flights of stairs, Sam motioned to Aiden to move to the other side of the doorway. He checked the area and listened. They'd seen a man dressed in a suit, enter through this door, only a few moments earlier.

"We have a problem. Our contact inside of NCIS has been transferred. We need to speed up our attack, or else our last chance in taking Nikita Reznikov down, will be lost."

Sam's body tensed. He tried to think who had been transferred recently. No one that he could think of, but Gibbs had told him that he'd spoken to Granger about Damon Sparks' behaviour towards Callen, and that he had a place come up to transfer him immediately. Anger rushed through Sam. If he could, he would strangle that bastard.

"What do you want me to do?"

Sam heard the other man reply. Sam held up two fingers to Aiden. So far he'd heard two voices.

"I have arranged for our contact's settlement. I need you to head to Los Angeles. It appears our men out there are incompetent. They've not only failed to find any of this agent's family, they caused quite a scene when they got carried away with their automatics. I want someone to work quietly, and to not leave a trail." This voice must belong to Kozlov. He spoke with authority. His mind buzzed. He knew which family Kozlov spoke of. Callen had told him the news that Nell had shared. Relief washed through him, that Deeks and Kensi had moved them to a safe location, and that they shouldn't worry about them. Urgency to deal with Kozlov grew strong within him.

"When do I leave?"

"Tonight."

"Now," Sam whispered through the comms. As Sam and Aiden burst through the door, with their guns at the ready, they fired at Kozlov. Gibbs and his companion took Boris Poleski out, who had stood up to fire back at them.

Gibbs checked through his scope, to ensure both targets were down, and that their men were safe. "Clear."

Callen and the commander were ready to move in, to provide backup for Sam and Aiden, as they made their way back out of the property. Casually, they walked past the cafe where his father sat, Garrison looked up and nodded, before returning his attention back to the newspaper.

They reached the entrance to Kozlov's mansion, carefully, they scanned the area before they disappeared behind the walls of the courtyard and made their way inside. It was too easy, Callen thought, as they entered the unlocked front door. Why had Kozlov downsized his usual amount of men at this address? Then when he thought it was safe, an armed man appeared from the first floor balcony and fired at them.

Callen and his companion, Commander Farrell, dived in behind a large bureau for cover. More men appeared and fired in their direction.

"We need backup in the main entry," Callen called through.

Upstairs, Sam and Aiden cleared both men of their weapons and checked their pulse. Kozlov slightly opened his eyes and stared at Sam. He tried to speak, but he gurgled, blood pouring into his throat and lungs.

"Nikita sent us," Sam told him. But he needed have bothered, Kozlov knew who he was.

Their attack had taken Kozlov by surprise. He thought his enemies in Russia had fled for their lives, so he'd remained his concentration on attacking Sam's family back in Los Angeles. He had men all over the city looking for Arkady, G. Callen and Sam Hanna. He was down to five men inside his property. Boris laid lifeless a few meters from him.

Kozlov's body flinched, then went silent. It never did Sam good to see the life leave a person's eyes. No matter how evil they were. However, he knew he'd sleep better tonight, knowing this enemy of Nikita's family were dead.

Gunfire below drew Sam and Aiden down the stairs. They took each of the four men down without much effort, with their rifles. When they arrived onto the first floor balcony, he nodded towards his partner and his son's commander.

Callen and Farrell nodded in return. Thankful that they were safe from the attack.

"We better get out of here. The police will be here in a matter of minutes." Callen told him.

"We'll head out the way we came, " Sam replied. "You better go."

Callen and Farrell ran in the shadows, hoping no one saw them. They joined Garrison in the local cafe and ordered a coffee. Callen slid in next to his father. "I could do with something stronger with it."

Garrison chuckled and showed him his flask inside his jacket pocket.

"Perfect." Callen picked up a newspaper, Farrell was pretending to read his copy, although he didn't know the language. Thankfully he had the Realestate section, and spent a few minutes looking at apartments and other properties in the city. Their coffee arrived swiftly, and took a sip. A gathering of police vehicles pulled up outside Kozlov's property. They set up a perimeter and a couple of them entered the property with their weapons drawn.

It was time they left the city and Russia, Callen thought. But they needed to settle the adrenaline rush and appear to be non the wiser of what was going on down the road.

The waitress brought out cake. It was an orange tea cake and went perfectly with their coffee.

"Did you order for us?" Callen asked his father in perfect Russian.

"That I did, moy syn." A smile formed on Garrison's lips. He was free for the first time since his wife had been murdered. "Let's go home."

 **Los Angeles**

The call came through to Granger, the news was good. No one from NCIS or SEAL team two had been injured, arrested or killed. They were coming home. He smiled to himself. At least he was saved from a thrashing from Hetty. She'd called him earlier, to advise him that she was being transferred to Cedar Sinai in the morning. Now he could return her call and give her the good news.

But he held off contacting Deeks or Blye. Until they were certain that there was no one left of Kozlov's men left in Los Angeles, they had to stay where they were.

He and Beale were busy putting a case forward to bring down Sparks. They hadn't contemplated an agent further afield than OSP to be the mole. Running the NorthWest Field Office, gave Sparks access to all the secret information on OSP, without a thought from either Granger or Hetty. Eric had to admit, neither had he thought of anyone outside of their office.

"I'm glad you transferred him," Eric blurted out. "I never liked his attitude towards Callen. I wish I had thought of him earlier."

"Get in line, Beale," Granger grumbled. Neither of them could believe what they were pulling up on Sparks. He'd been rogue for seven years—sly and cunning. Hetty would have a fit if she knew. She had hassled him five years ago to get rid of him. She didn't like the way Sparks had treated Callen on joint cases in the past. And he had wanted to shift him to an overseas post for just as long. But until only recently, had a post in the Middle East opened up for Sparks. The last thing Granger wanted was backlash for getting rid of him. So he'd worked on a plan to shift him elsewhere.

They were sifting through the information that was coming through to them quicker than the two of them could manage. Callen had been the target of Sparks' vendetta, taking the rest of OSP along with him. Which explained why things had appeared to have gone quiet since Callen and Nell had vanished. Sparks had nothing to do for the past five years, until Callen showed up in the North West Office, the week before. Everything Gibbs had told Granger about Sparks behaviour towards Callen made sense. Not only did he not like Callen, but he was receiving a huge sum of money, that Sparks had transferred to the Caymans, for passing on whatever information he could find on him.

Owen was tempted to pull out Hetty's scotch for the two them to celebrate a successful job well done. Eric was working overtime to help him build their case against Sparks. A smile hinted on Owen's lips. His men were coming home, and soon, he hoped, their families as well.

His cell buzzed, taking his attention away from the documents and paper trail Eric had displayed on the large screen in Ops.

"Granger." He listened to the voice on the other end of the call. He furrowed his brow. "When?" He looked at his watch.

Eric gave him a sideway glance. Worry for the team returned, and he hated the feeling of not knowing what was being said on the other end of the call, and the fact that he could do nothing about it to help.


	14. Chapter 14

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

Eric waited with bated breath for Owen to disconnect his call. But his patience wasn't doing well under the circumstances. He'd spent the past five years worrying about Nell, and he had a right to be, especially after the recent attacks on her and Callen.

"You can breathe again, Beale." Owen slid his cell back into his jacket pocket and looked back at the information before him.

"Sir?" Eric refused to relax, something bad had happened, but Granger wouldn't budge on filling him in.

Owen made a grating sound at the back of his throat and turned to face Eric. "That was our Middle East Field Office. Sparks' body was found in his apartment by his new team, after he failed to turn up for his first day on the job." He shook his head, he knew what had occurred. Kozlov was tying up loose ends and had a contract out on Sparks. This news unsettled him. If Kozlov's men were still following orders even after his death, how many more were around looking for his agents in Russia, and their families here in Los Angeles?

"That's good news, isn't it?" Eric tilted his head, observing his third in charge.

"There's no doubt Sparks got what was coming to him, after his betrayal of fellow agents and this office to Kozlov."

"But?" Eric pushed his glasses firmly against his face for reassurance.

"But, this means that it's not safe for our people, here or in St Petersburg, until we are certain that all of Kozlov's men have stood down from doing his dirty work."

The news of what Granger had just told him, hit Eric with a sudden cold chill that shivered up his spine. His body shuddered with fear for Sam, Callen and their families, especially Nell and their two adorable children, and unborn child.

"But they'll be safe where you've sent them, won't they?"

Owen shifted uneasily on his feet, studying more of what laid up on the screen. "They should be, seeing only myself and the agents who I sent with them, are the only ones who know of their destination."

"Good." Eric swallowed the lump in his throat. "They should be, especially since we know who the mole was and that you sent him away before he caught wind of this latest attack on Sam and Callen's families, and of course, now that he's dead."

Granger's eyes snapped back to Eric. "He placed someone inside our walls before, Beale. Don't forget what happened the last time we found a mole here?"

"How could I not?" Eric was slightly annoyed Granger brought that up. He'd been held captive by him and just the thought that Sparks could have another mole inside their office concerned him.

"I'm sorry, Beale. We cannot afford to take any chances. I want you and only you in here until this mess is sorted."

"You want me to lock down Ops?"

"Yes." Owen lifted his head and looked quietly at their Technical Operator, before continuing. "I trust you, Beale. There's not many I trust, but you're as honest as they come. I know you would never do anything to place Nell in danger, nor the rest of the team. This search we're doing is between you and me. Not a word to anyone, not even Hetty if she rings."

Eric swallowed the lump in his throat, the old guy did have a heart after all. He nodded, but remained speechless after that confession from Granger, he was short on a reply. What could one say back to the older man? He cleared his throat and returned his focus back to what they were doing.

"So, we're now looking for any known associates of Kozlov's, in Russia and in Los Angeles?"

"Yes. And anyone who was close to Sparks, whether it be in our North West Office or outside of work. We need to know that there isn't anymore moles inside of this office either."

"This is a lot for one person," Eric softly replied. Nell's words the other day on the beach played out in his mind. How much she missed not knowing what was going on with Callen. But now she was moved for her own safety, there was no way Granger would approve of what he was tempted to ask.

"I'll make a call to Director Vance. See if we can have Agents Bishop and McGee in here to assist you. Hetty's moving down here tomorrow, we can place someone else to guard her once she's moved to a local hospital."

"Thanks." Beale hadn't thought about the East Coast team, his mind had only been on his old partner whom he missed a great deal. But he had to agree, Granger's options for Bishop and McGee to come in to assist him was the better option, considering the circumstances. He had no idea how long Nell and the others would remain away. If he wanted to see her again soon, he needed to work hard to find all threats to her and Michelle's families, so they could return home.

 **Eureka, California**

Kensi could only bury her head into her hands and shake it in shame, as Deeks called out Eureka, over and over. The detective found the name of their current stay, amusing, to say the least. He had an audience of two young children who were mimicking him, and he revelled in the attention. Nell, Michelle and Kamran could only laugh at the situation. You could always count on Marty Deeks to brighten up the group, when things weren't looking the best.

It was a good thing too, seeing he was only too well aware of what had gone down earlier that day at the Hanna's home, and the effects if had on Michelle and Kamran. Kensi decided to leave them alone for a while and take a walk out onto the beach. Another beach house had been arranged for them to stay in for the night. She wasn't certain why Granger had arranged for them to move so far from OSP, but for whatever reason he had, crossing the border into Oregon had a purpose. They would neither be in California or the State of Washington. There had to be something behind this.

Her cell buzzed and a chuckle escaped at the irony at the timing of the call. "You're getting as bad as Hetty," she told him.

"How's that?" Owen Granger held a printed out document in his hand and continued to study it closely.

"I was just thinking about your reasons behind us going to where we're heading, why this place was important, not the one we're at now, or the one we were staying in last night."

"You've figured it out yet?" Granger stopped his analysing of the document and focused on his call.

"I think so. Not that I wish to say it out loud."

"This call is secure." He'd made sure of that with the phones he'd given to both agents. No one inside this office had privy to their existence. He'd had Timothy McGee supply them for him especially, through his channels.

"For some reason, you didn't want us in either states, California or Washington. You're thinking about the mole again, aren't you?" It was the only thing Kensi could surmise of what was going on.

"Yes. Although at the time, I wasn't sure. Only that he'd been quiet for five years. The same five years—-"

"Callen and Nell were in hiding," Kensi finished for him.

"Yes." Granger wasn't taking any chances, he was pleased to know that no bugs had been found in OPS, when he went over the room with the bug detector.

"So this mole thing was all about Callen?"

"Yes."

"Damon Sparks was the mole, " she realised. Kensi thought back to the way Sparks had reacted to his team assisting them in fighting the Russians. It all made sense now.

"Yes."

Anger flared in her dark brown eyes. "He responded badly to Callen when we entered the Seattle office." Her muscles tensed under her clothing, if she was in the position to head there right now and deal with Sparks herself, she would.

"Gibbs told me. Beale's found evidence that he's been on Kozlov's payroll for quite some time."

"Have you arrested him?" He heard the anger in her voice.

"I moved him to the Middle East Field Office as soon as Gibbs told me. I've been trying to move him for years, only now I had somewhere to send him."

"So that's it?" She wasn't satisfied with him being moved, she wanted revenge for Callen, Sam, Hetty and Owen. As well as Helen, who had been killed when Granger had been poisoned.

"We all would like to have our revenge on Sparks, Blye. And I don't blame you for wanting it. However, it's too late for that now."

Kensi knitted her brows together, puzzled. "Why's that?"

"Kozlov was tying up loose ends before our team took him out."

"You've heard from Callen and Sam?" This news was good news. They could all go home.

"I've heard, and they're on their way back. But you can't come back."

"Why? Because of Sparks?"

"He's dead, Kensi." Granger's words echoed in her ears.

"Sparks?"

"Yes. Someone was sent to kill him before our team could kill Kozlov."

"But if Kozlov and Sparks are dead—-"

"We have to ensure there's no more of Kozlov's men around to finished the job. Until we know for sure, and that word has spread about Kozlov's death, you need to keep moving to your destination. And we need to make sure Sparks didn't have another mole placed inside our office."

"You're kidding me, aren't you? Are we ever going to get rid of the mole problem?" Her patience had run thin for years over this mole situation. She was fortunate enough to have some people inside OSP she trusted. But still, any of the support staff could have been a mole, especially since it had already happened once.

"I am hoping that now Kozlov and Sparks are both dead, there is an end in sight."

Kensi inhaled the salt infused air. Something didn't settle right in her gut. Worry, fear, or something else, she wasn't certain. "Keep us posted. Am I allowed to fill in the others with this latest news?"

"Yes. You need to keep your eyes open to anyone acting suspicious or taking special interest in anyone in your group."

"I hear you." She disconnected the call, strong hands wrapped around her waist, she felt the bristles of Deeks' beard tickle her neck.

"Marty."

"Hmm! Why do you taste so good?" Deeks kissed her on her neck, ready to devour her.

"We're on the clock." She turned her body and faced him.

It didn't take Deeks long to see the worry in her eyes. "Was that Granger?"

"Yes, it was."

"What's going on?"

"Granger found the mole. It was Sparks." She saw anger rage inside of him, but he kept it reined in.

Deeks shifted his eyes to the waves, he wanted to head out there and surf them, to help him deal with this news. But he also knew he was on protection duty of Sam and Callen's families. He heaved out a heavy breath. "If I could head up there right now—"

"He's dead."

Deeks furrowed his brow, he saw she was serious. "What happened?"

"All I know is that Kozlov put a contract out on Sparks after Granger had him moved to the Middle East Field Office."

"Good. He got what he deserved then."

"Sam and Callen are on their way home. They killed Kozlov."

"Good. Then we can head back to L.A. and celebrate."

"No!"

Deeks' eyes widened. "What haven't you told me?"

"Granger is concerned that although Kozlov is dead, there could be men still out there to do his dirty work. We need to wait until we know that the threat has gone."

"Of course. We know there are a few men in L.A. who tried to get to Michelle and Kamran."

"Granger is also concerned that Sparks may have placed another mole inside OSP."

"But if this was about Callen, he's been gone a while—"

"Yet, Janvier and Kozlov's men still managed to find Callen in Victoria, and Arkady was recognised and kidnapped to get to Callen, and therefore to his father."

"So really this all has to do with Kozlov's revenge with Callen's father." He blew out a whistle. "Poor Callen. When's the guy going to get a break?"

"Maybe now that Kozlov is dead. He's with his father now, that we do know. Perhaps he might bring him back to L.A., and he'll get all the questions he's been wanting to know, answered." A smile hinted on Kensi's lips, they needed some good news after all the bad that's been going on recently.

Deeks mirrored her smile. "That would be something, wouldn't it?" He gently brushed her lips with his, he felt her body tremble from his touch, and smiled again. He enjoyed having this effect on her. He thought that if he could relax her enough then—-no. He couldn't go there. Just thinking about it could ruin the chance, but he couldn't help himself but hope. He loved spending time with Callen and Nell's kids. He wished with all his might, that they too could have pieces of them mixed together and have kids of their own.


	15. Chapter 15

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

 **St Petersburg**

They'd stayed in the cafe longer than anticipated. It was two hours before the authorities left the Kozlov residence, the dead bodies being taken to the morgue. The local police canvassed the area, no one could tell them anything, as they'd not heard the gunshots.

Two police entered the cafe, they scanned the area, looking for anyone who looked out of place. Callen, his father and Commander Farrell, were laughing over a funny story Garrison had told them. It was from Callen's childhood, and although Callen had no memory of it, he enjoyed hearing the story just the same. The timing was perfect. They looked the part of locals, enjoying time together in a cafe.

They waited until the coast was clear. Callen swallowed the remainder of his second cup of coffee, leaving a tip on the table, before standing up. He said something to his father in Russian, telling him it was great to catch up, and next time he'd bring his wife and kids with him. The three of them exited the cafe still chatting about everyday things, and walked in the opposite direction of the Kozlov mansion.

No one noticed. No one suspected, that they had been involved in the invasion and take down of the country's defence minister. They walked past two more policemen who stood at the corner, searching for clues on the assassination of Eduard Kozlov and some of his men. They knew he had more men searching throughout the city for an escaped prisoner. No one had seen Arkady Kolcheck since the previous day. It was a good thing the team arrived when they had, and Arkady was moved out of the city and country within a matter of hours of his escape. Else, they were certain, he would be on the top of the police's suspect list of this latest attack. Arkady's prospects for help would have been slim, if they hadn't come.

Three blocks up, Callen and the commander parted from his father, keeping the illusion they'd only met up for coffee. But it did nothing to dispel the worry having his father alone in the city. He knew his father was good as it came to becoming a ghost or someone else. He hoped they all made it to their rendezvous point, north of the Neva River. They'd all been on radio silence since they'd left Kozlov's mansion, just incase any of the authorities found them and worked out this had been the work of the U.S. Government. The political repercussions were too high to risk being caught. Callen had no idea how and if Sam and Aidan had made it out of there in once piece.

Callen and Commander Farrell strolled along the Moyka River until they reached the Neva, and headed east for the Troitskiy Most, otherwise known as the Trinity Bridge. The Art Nouveau landmark spread out over the river with Rostral Columns flanking the sides. It was a long walk, but moving on foot to their rendezvous point had proved to be the safest, with the amount of police about and road blocks.

"Took your time," Sam stated, when he saw his partner and Commander Farrell arrive. The worry for them was evident in his eyes.

"You made it." Callen was relieved to see Sam and Aiden leaning against their SUV.

"We've been waiting for you for the past hour."

"We had to stay put inside the cafe until it was safe. The amount of police around was crazy," Callen argued.

Sam nodded. He understood, but he couldn't help but worry, just the same. "Gibbs left with the rest of the team, half an hour ago. Where's Garrison?"

Callen looked at his watch. "He should be here in about ten minutes. We separated three blocks from the cafe, taking different routes to get here."

"Good. We've waited around long enough."

An hour later, Callen knew something wasn't right. His father had vanished, and they had no idea where he was, or if anyone had him.

"G. We need to move." Sam stated, not liking his father vanishing like he had. "We can go for a drive, see if we can find him."

Callen nodded. He needed to do something.

They headed south of the Neva, retracing Callen and Commander Farrell's steps. Road blocks were set up close to Kozlov's mansion, there was no way they could get near to the cafe they'd been visiting earlier. They headed east instead. Callen jumped out, eager to find any signs of his father.

Sam jumped out of the SUV and ran after him. "G. Where do you think you're going?" He saw the desperation in his partner's eyes.

"I need to find him."

"What if he used one of his contacts and made his own way home?" Sam had wondered, Garrison knew this town well.

"That wasn't in the plan," Callen stated. He was annoyed, and fear bubbled at the surface. He'd only just found his father after a lifetime in searching for him. He couldn't lose him now.

"Let's go back, see if he is there, okay?"

Sam's cell buzzed. He saw it was the burn phone for Gibbs. "I hope you have some good news for us, Gibbs?"

Gibbs smiled as he nodded his head. "I do in fact. We've made it back to the farm, half an hour ago. Garrison's just arrived with someone." He knew Callen would be worried.

"Thanks, I'll let G know. He's been worried." Sam disconnected the call. Callen had watched his facial expressions throughout the call.

"He's home."

Callen's body relaxed and nodded. He climbed back into the vehicle and sank into the front passenger seat, his eyes outside on the city landscape, lost in thought. He'd come too close to losing his father again. Numerous questions ran through his synapses on why his father had changed the plan and headed straight for the farm. There was no way he was letting his father out of his sight again. Garrison was coming home with them, and that was the end of the matter.

Sam pulled onto the dirt driveway and drove through the woods towards the farmhouse. It felt too quiet, he gave his partner a look of concern, Callen pulled his weapon out of his waistband and turned the safety switch off. Commander Farrell and Aiden did the same. Sam parked the SUV near to the barn and they all climbed out, silent like the night owl. In pairs, they moved low to the ground, Gibbs and the rest of SEAL team two were supposed to be at the farm with Garrison.

Callen spotted the movement on the front porch first. He held his hand up to stop the others from moving. A man in khaki overalls stood holding a rifle. A small light flickered in the kitchen, all other lights were switched off. Although daylight didn't vanish at this time of year, he knew it became dark inside that house.

"We need eyes inside the house," Callen told the others. He hand signalled for Commander Farrell and Aiden to move to the other side of the house for a peek, while he and Sam went forward on this side.

Callen and Sam had a good view inside the kitchen. Garrison sat alone, his body bloodied. Whoever had invaded his farm, his identity had been burned and he'd suffered an injury to the head. His head lifted, Garrison saw his son's piercing blue eyes stare back at him. He slightly shook his head, warning him of a trap.

Callen sunk below the window and reported on what he saw to Sam. They moved to the other side of the farm house to see how Aiden and Farrell were doing. Farrell lowered his weapon when he realised it was them. "Gibbs is in the living room, he's been tied up to a chair and questioned. I don't know who it is, but they're not being nice about it."

Callen heaved in a heavy breath. He concluded that Gibbs was receiving the same treatment as his father. He lifted himself up to the window for a look. The butt of the pistol knocked Gibbs unconscious. The situation had gone bad. He signalled to the others to pull back, so they could make a plan.

Behind the barn, the four of them whispered over a plan. A slight movement behind them, caught them all, their weapons drawn, they were relieved to see it was the rest of SEAL team two.

"What happened?" Farrell demanded of his men.

"Gibbs had us walk the perimeter, Sir. When we were out, the man who brought Garrison back, betrayed him, burning him to Kozlov's men." One of them stated. "We were out in the woods when they turned up, they don't know we're here." They were waiting for them to arrive, so they could arrange a rescue mission.

Commander Farrell nodded. "Good. Now tell me the details." Time was of the essence. If these men had sent word to St Petersburg about Garrison and Gibbs, then time was running out. They needed to get them out of there now, and to their rendezvous point for extraction. He dialled in a call to his other unit, who were waiting for them, half an hour's drive away. He looked to Sam. "We need to get Garrison and Gibbs into that SUV, stat."

Sam nodded. He wanted Aiden to be the one at the wheel, not wanting his own son in danger, eager to go in to the lion's den himself. But here, Aiden was under the directive of the Commander, something Sam understood and respected. He looked to his partner and handed him the keys.

Callen shook his head. "No way I'm driving. I'm going in."

"G!" Sam grabbed him by the shoulders. "This is personal to you. Gibbs needs me to carry him out. You saw what they did to him. Your father isn't in great shape either. You're the best person to be ready to drive us out of here."

Sam looked to Farrell. "How far away is your vehicle?"

"Just over the hill," he replied.

"Good. We can all be out of here in no time. Five minutes?"

Farrell looked to his men and then back at Sam. "Yes. Let's go."

Deflated, Callen swiftly moved himself towards the SUV, carefully scanning the surrounding area. They knew there were people at the house, but he wasn't certain about the barn. So far they had been safe in their movement around the property. It was a good thing that the rest of SEAL team two had been walking the perimeter when his father turned up. But who had burned his father? Anger surged through his veins. He had supposed that once they'd killed Kozlov, his father and he would be safe, and that of his family back home. But now he doubted that could be true. Even after death, Kozlov continued to cause him and his family trouble.

Satisfied he was safe, he placed the key into the ignition and waited. His weapon in his hand, the cold metal smooth and heavy. His heart beat rapidly.

A single gunshot ripped through the silence of the evening, before more followed. His eyes darted around him, but he was away from view of the goings on in the house. He hated being out of the action, like a young boy, who wasn't good enough to enter battle. He felt like young David right before he slew Goliath. His brothers scolded him, when he arrived with food from their father, for them and their captain. The giant mocked the army of King Saul's. No one wanted to fight him. But David had, and with a few chosen pebbles, he'd slain the giant before them all. Sometimes Callen felt like the young David. Being kept at home, hidden from all that was going on in his family. But he'd proven his worth, that he was a mighty warrior, even though he'd never been a SEAL like his partner and SEAL team two. And now, when his father needed him, he was left to be the driver of the SUV.

A multitude of footsteps came steadily his way. Over his partner's frame, Gibbs hung still unconscious. Rage tore through him. Gibbs was family and no one messed with his family. He turned the ignition on. Aiden and Farrell brought Garrison out, the rest of their team, moved around them, with their weapons drawn, for protection. Gibbs and Garrison were lifted into the SUV, Sam and Aiden joined them. Farrell and the rest of his team covered them until they were out of sight. They moved in the shadows of the woods towards their own vehicle and prayed they all made it to their rendezvous point this time.


	16. Chapter 16

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

Their escape had been a blur to Callen. All he could think of was getting them to their rendezvous point, so he drove like a bat out of hell. He'd made it in good time, but as he turned around, his first chance to really take a look at his father and Gibbs, fear for both of them re-emerged. He'd never seen Gibbs unconscious before, although he knew he'd come close to dying a few years back, it still hit him with a force he'd not expected. It had been Gibbs who'd come to his rescue in the past, not the other way round. He was family, and Kozlov's men had done this to him. And there lay his father, conscious, but he didn't look good.

A helicopter emerged out of the sky and landed twenty-five metres from where they were parked. SEAL Team two guarded the forest around them, while Sam carried Gibbs towards it. Callen lowered his head, and shifted his father's arm over his shoulders, Aiden did the same on the other side. He was weak, and his vulnerability hit Callen hard and fast. They moved as fast as they could, thankfully, they were met with a stretcher, placing him onto it. Callen moved in beside his father in the rear, while Aiden moved back with his unit, to vanish into the night. He saluted his partner's son, thankful to have him and his unit there to assist them. There would have been no way the four of them could have achieved this mission on their own. He knew he had Granger to thank for their assistance.

Callen's stomach did a flip-flop, as they rose into the air. The blades flickered above them, taking them to a safe location. Like Arkady, they'd been moved as far from harm as soon as possible. He scanned his eyes over his father, who laid in the stretcher beside him. Gibbs laid next to him, Sam tending to his needs.

The partners eyes met, blue met brown. Worry for both men evident in their eyes. Their rescue pilot and co-pilot flew them north west to the Norwegian Sea, where the USS Ronald Reagan sat, waiting for their arrival.

Both men were rushed down underneath the carrier to the on board hospital. Callen felt helpless, as he sat in an office, waiting on news of both men. Sam eyed him closely, knowing that this situation with both men would have a huge impact with his partner, who had been so good at hiding his emotions. But now as he saw how pale Callen looked, he worried about him.

"Is there any news?" Sam asked their NCIS Agent on board.

Ethan Gates shook his head. "I'll go and see what I can find. Perhaps you and your partner should take a rest. There's two free beds through that door."

Sam nodded. "Thanks. But until we hear anything, I don't think my partner is going to do any sleeping." He sat down beside Callen, quietly, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees—-just being a presence for him was all he could be at this time.

"I don't need you to babysit me, Sam," Callen snapped.

"Are we really going to go there, G?" Sam leaned back and rested his head on the wall of the office.

"Go, have a rest, like Gates suggested."

"I will once I know—-"

Callen nodded. "Thanks." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thumb rubbing against his pointer finger, trying to reign in the emotions that threatened to burst through. "I'm sorry I snapped. It's just—-"

"I know, G." He gently squeezed his partner's shoulder. "I know." He couldn't help it, he threw his arm over his shoulders and drew him in, he needed the comfort, whether he knew it or not. His partner had changed over the past five years, being married to Nell and becoming a father had softened him.

Callen laid there, resting for a moment, thankful Sam was okay. He couldn't deal with anything happening to him as well. Sam, who was his brother, provided that comfort he knew his wife would have provided if she'd been there. In his own quiet way, Sam really was a giant teddy bear. It was why his kids loved him so much.

"Agent Callen?" A doctor in scrubs entered the small office.

Callen and Sam stood.

"How are they?"

"Agent Gibbs is stable. He's suffered concussion, but he'll be okay. It may take him a few hours to come round. He'll be sore, a few bruised ribs. He was lucky."

"And my father?"

The doctor gave him a small smile. "He's a tough man. How he's managed to remain conscious, I have no clue. A man his age, should be in a worse state than Agent Gibbs. His head wound was more severe than Agent Gibbs', but he's coherent and has two rib fractures. A lucky man. He's asking for you."

"He'll be okay?"

"Yes."

Callen let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you for everything."

"He's lost a lot of blood, he's receiving a blood pack as we speak. He may fall asleep at any moment. Like I said, he's tough."

"Thanks. Are you sure Agent Gibbs is going to be okay?" Guilt washed over him. Gibbs was only there to support him.

"My assumption is he'll be back to work in about two weeks, he's lucky. Unless something happens before he wakes up, from what we could ascertain on board, he'll heal quickly."

"Thanks." Callen followed the doctor towards the ward where both his father and Gibbs laid recovering from their injuries. When he entered, his father looked dopey. He took in the drip and blood pack entering in the back of his hand. He hitched in his breath.

"It's okay, son."

Callen took the last few steps forward. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his father's hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck." Garrison gave him a weak smile. "You and your SEALs did a good job."

"Yeah, they did." Callen hesitated, he didn't feel like he'd done anything. It was Gibbs, Sam and the SEALs who'd done all the work, Callen noted. It was hard for him to accept that they'd all placed their lives on the line for him and his father.

"Papa—"

"It's going to be alright now, Grisha."

"Is it? Who was it that took you back to your farm? They burned you to Kozlov's men."

Garrison closed his eyes, he knew his son would have questions burning over how he'd not met them at their rendezvous. He slowly opened them, the events of the evening taking their toll on him. "After I left you and that Commander, I had every intention of meeting you across the river." He swallowed, his mouth felt dry, he'd become dehydrated from all the blood he'd lost.

Callen moved to pass a glass of water over to his father, helping him to take small sips from the straw. Once his father had enough, he rested his head back onto the pillow. Callen took this opportunity to inspect his father's injuries. A large white patch laid over the top of his father's head wound, wadding placed underneath it. His right side was taped from his rib fractures, although he couldn't see underneath from his hospital gown. He knew from his own experience that was what they did, until they'd healed.

"We're both alive, thanks to you all, son."

"I didn't do anything—-"

Garrison tried to raise his brow in surprise. But the bandaging on his head made the task difficult. "Really? Who did I see look inside my kitchen window to assess the situation? Who led the team to rescue us?"

"I wouldn't call sitting in the SUV leading," he mumbled.

"Is that all you think you did?"

Callen nodded.

Garrison grabbed his son's hand and tried to grip is as firmly as he could. "Never doubt yourself, son. You did everything you could do to rescue us. You didn't rush in with guns blazing until you'd assessed the situation. Then you came up with a plan."

"Well it wasn't me—-"

"I'd listen to your old man, if I was you, G." Callen turned and saw Sam standing in the doorway.

"You made me go to the SUV, you said this was too personal to me." His own frustrations rang through.

"One of us needed to drive us out of there as fast as possible. You did that, G. Gibbs needed me to carry him. There was no other option," Sam stated.

"Because I was never a SEAL."

Sam shook his head. "When are you going to accept you did what we needed you to do? Why do you think you need to be the one at risk all the time, G? You're still recovering from your own gunshot wound."

Garrison knitted his brows together. "What do you mean, Sam?" This was the first time he'd heard about this. There had been no sign of a recent injury.

Sam sighed, Callen glared at him. "He needs to know what you've been through because of Kozlov."

Callen shook his head. "Not now. Now I need to know who it was who burned him." Callen looked back at his father, they'd gone off track and he berated himself for showing his weakness.

Garrison took in a deep breath and slowly released it. "After I left you, I bumped into someone I know. A man I had worked with over the past few years. He didn't know who I really was, only my current identity. Word had reached him about what had happened to Kozlov. I didn't reveal anything about our operation to him, nor did I know he'd been a spy for Kozlov." Garrison took a moment to catch his breath. His head was throbbing. "He offered to take me home. I didn't want to give him any details about meeting you on the north side of the Trinity Bridge. I didn't know him enough to trust him, unlike Roman's family, who'd worked with your mother and I back in the early days. We trusted them, like family. I accepted to protect the rest of you. When we arrived, Gibbs was alone in the house, even then I never told him who Gibbs really was. He's a good man, that friend of yours."

They all looked over to an unconscious Gibbs in the other bed.

"Immediately he shifted into character, only spoke in Russian, there wasn't anything to make my contact suspicious that we'd had anything to do with what went down in St Petersburg. Gave a false name, said he was a farmer on a nearby farm."

"But?"

"Borya had a GPS tracker on him, leading Kozlov's men immediately to our location. We had no chance to leave and take Borya down. We were out numbered and out gunned, five to one. That was when I knew Borya had been a spy. He admitted to me that he was working for Kozlov, trying to locate me. It took him a while to put things together, to realise I was Nikita. I had no chance to warn you."

Anger surged through Callen. "What happened to Borya?"

"Your partner killed him, a bullet into the temple. He'd been leading the interrogations, asking all the questions. He suspected Gibbs to be working with me, he had no idea he was American."

"Good." Callen looked back at his partner. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, G." Sam squeezed his shoulder, pleased to see him talking with his father. "I think I'll get my sleep now I know you're going to be okay."

Callen waited until his partner had left. "I'm glad you're okay. I couldn't have anything—-I couldn't lose you now I've found you."

"Me neither. I'm glad we found each other too, son."

"You know it's not safe for you to return back to Russia."

"I know."

"I would love for you to live with us, get to know us more."

Garrison gently squeezed his hand in his son's. "I would like that very much."

Callen saw his father struggle to keep his eyes open. "I'll let you rest. I'll be right here."

Garrison's eyes closed, it didn't take long before his breathing slowed.

Callen walked over to Gibbs' bed, he rested himself on the edge of his bed, taking in the bandaging on his head. Smaller bandages than on his father. No blood pack either. He leaned over the older man. "Wake up, Gibbs. You're safe on the Reagan. We're heading home." He rubbed his thumb over the back of Gibbs' hand. "I need you well again." A tear slipped down his cheek, he quickly wiped it away. He found himself at ease to show his emotions now he was alone. Well as much as he could be, next to his unconscious friend. He knew his friend had been through so much in his life. He fought the battle over the years, the desire to join his dead wife and daughter. But there were many more who still needed him. Callen understood where his friend came from, but he needed to make sure Gibbs understood that his time wasn't up. Not yet, by a long shot.

Tiredness tugged at him. Callen shifted into the arm chair that sat between the two beds, he stretched his legs out and rested his head half on his shoulder and closed his eyes. Large hazel eyes stared back at him. A hint of a smile on the edge of his wife's lips. His heart ached for his wife and children. To hold them in his arms once more. He drifted off into the abyss, dreaming of happier times with his family.


	17. Chapter 17

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

 **Bandon, Oregon**

It had been another restless sleep for Nell, not knowing what was going on with her husband. It had been too many days since he'd left, she relied on Owen Granger or Eric Beale to pass on information to either Deeks or Kensi, to update them. Callen had gone dark on his cell, which worried her even more. They'd been in Bandon five days, and not a word on what was going on in Los Angeles or in Russia.

A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. Kensi looked over at her with concern. "You've been quiet. Is everything okay?"

Nell shrugged. "I'm not sure. I can't stop worrying. Has Granger or Eric contacted you or Deeks on what's going on?"

Kensi shook her head. She joined her on the edge of the bed. "No. I wish I had some good news for you." She yawned. "All this doing nothing is making me sluggish." Kensi yawned a second time, Nell raised her brow, curiously.

"I thought I only was the only one who wasn't getting much sleep."

"Oh I'm sleeping. It's just, I don't know." Kensi knitted her brow. "This is so unlike me."

Nell's eyes widened. "You're not—"

Kensi's mouth slightly opened, no words came out. She sat their with a blank look on her face.

"Kens?" Nell gently pushed.

"Did you know we've been trying since you and Callen left?" Kensi shook her head, her eyes glistened. "Oh, no. Now look at me. Crying for what? A baby we've wanted for so long—"

"It's okay, Kens. You should be allowed to cry among friends." Nell placed her arm over her friend's shoulders.

Kensi sucked in a heavy breath. "This is so not me." She wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"Have you had any other symptoms?" Nell continued her probing.

Kensi nodded. "Yeah. Back in Eureka, I felt off in my stomach. I wasn't sure if it was the case, you know, who the mole is, or all that went down in Canada, and then at the Hanna's house."

Nell understood. She nodded. "The first sign I had was feeling sluggish. Having two active kids made getting out and keeping up with them difficult. I took a test, having been through it with Alice and Tristan already, I knew the symptoms. Then all the drama we had, I spent all my time worrying about G and our kids, then after Hetty was shot, I had to tell G that I couldn't help Hetty with a blood transfusion. It was then I first threw up. I think everything that was going on finally hit me."

"And now?" Kensi wondered if what Nell suspected was true. She'd been disappointed too many times, she didn't want to hope and then have it dashed again.

"And now I'm finding I'm less nauseas, still tired. It's hard work making a baby." Nell grinned. "And the best thing." She took Kensi's hand and firmly squeezed it. "Get a test done. Then you'll know for certain, instead of wondering."

"I'm scared, Nell. Scared of not, and scared of being."

Nell squeezed her hand again. "You and Deeks will be amazing parents. And if you are, you need to tell Granger. He needs to realise that you can't work in the field if anyone comes for us." She heaved out a sigh. She prayed no one found them in this Oregon coastal town. Moving to this location had surprised her, but with unknown entities in the mole situation still outstanding, it had been a wise move by their boss.

Kensi bit on her lower lip and processed all that Nell had told her. She knew she was right, yet she still she hesitated. "No word to Marty."

"You have my word." Nell held her thumb over her pinky, doing the Girls Scout's pledge.. "Not a soul."

"You were a Girls Scout?" Kensi asked her, surprised.

Nell smiled. "I sure was."

"Me too." Kensi returned her smile. "Looks like we have more in common than we first thought."

"Although I was never a Navy brat." Nell winked.

"You're excused from not being one," Kensi jested. "But your kids are."

Laughter escaped Nell's throat. "I suppose they are in a way. We've already moved from Victoria to L.A. and now to here, for who knows long. They think we're on some holiday."

"Everyday is a holiday to kids," Kensi added. "Except for school."

"I loved school," Nell responded.

"Of course you loved school. You're super smart."

"So are you, Kens. You wouldn't be in OSP if you weren't."

Kensi nodded. "I know. Just not as smart as you."

Nell blushed. It was times like this she wish she had Eric beside her, he understood what it was like to be the smart kid. It wasn't always great being top of the class. It took courage, a courage her parents helped build.

Alice tumbled into the room and wrapped her arms around her mom. "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Hi, Mom." Alice looked up into her mother's hazel eyes for a moment. She was still adjusting to her mother being without the coloured contacts.

"Are you hungry?" Alice nodded. "Let me use the bathroom first. I'll meet you out there." The sudden need to pee returned for Nell. She dashed out of the room, quicker than Kensi thought possible.

 **San Diego**

It had taken them a few days to travel back to the U.S. aboard the USS Ronald Reagan, hugging the coastlines of Greenland and Canada, before arriving on the west coast of the United States. They were fortunate it was summer, else the journey wouldn't have been possible, and they would have ended up in Norfolk, the wrong side of the country for the Reagan. They couldn't risk transporting Gibbs or Garrison by air due to their head injuries. It was safer this way. However, Garrison continued to surprise the medical staff and Callen. He was very alert and strong for someone his age and injuries. Gibbs on the other hand continued to worry them, especially Callen. Guilt laid heavily on Callen's shoulders over the injuries Gibbs had sustained for his father. This was never his battle, but, his friendship and loyalty shone through, and he suffered at the hands of Kozlov's men, because of him. He wondered what Nate would say about all of this negative thinking, but he couldn't help it.

Sam watched him carefully from the doorway each day, saying nothing. Garrison knew what Sam was up to, and he was pleased to see how devoted Sam, Gibbs and his son were to each other. Although he hardly knew this man, Gibbs, he could see in his son's eyes, just how close the men were.

"Gibbs will wake up when he is ready," Garrison tried to reason.

Callen sat on the edge of Gibbs' bed, staring intently at his friend, as if they were the only two in the room. Although he spent time with his father, Garrison could see his worry for Gibbs rested on the forefront of his mind.

"The doc said he would be okay." Callen finally replied.

"Trust the doctor, son." Garrison felt helpless. Pain shot through his body every time he tried to move, even just an inch. His head continued to pound after five days of lying in this bed. He couldn't wait to be moved out of this windowless room. He suspected he must be a few floors down into the depths of the ship's belly.

"I know. It's just, well—-Gibbs' has lost so much. He was still a kid when his mother died, then his wife and daughter—-Kelly was only eight years old." Callen ran his hand through his hair, his emotions overwhelming him. "And more recently, his father. I worry he has nothing left to live for."

"He has you, Grisha," Garrison told him.

Callen knew he did. There were others too—-Abbey, Ducky, McGee, Bishop and Tony. Memories of Kate and Ziva flickered across his mind like an old black and white movie. Gibbs had lost too many good people, people he cared about. No wonder why he didn't fight to come back to the world of the living. Callen fisted his hands, he wished he had access to a sandbag to punch out his frustrations.

"Gibbs. We need you. Please, come back to us. What will I tell Alice and Tristan?" He swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat.

A movement ever so slight in Gibbs hand caught his attention. "Gibbs?" Callen grabbed Gibbs' hand and squeezed it. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." He waited with bated breath. It had been five days since they'd escaped Russia, every day his friend failed to wake up, made his recovery seem less possible. Then he felt it. That gentle squeeze from Gibbs' hand. Relief flooded his body. "Gibbs, wake up."

Callen watched his friend closely. A flicker of the eyes, pale blue eyes stared back at him. "About time. What did you think you were doing, playing the part of sleeping beauty?"

Gibbs tried to to speak. His throat felt dry like sand.

"Don't try to talk. Give yourself some time to get your strength back. You've been out of it for five days." His eyes darted around him. "I'll be back." He moved into the corridor, the USS Ronald Reagan was a large carrier, but Callen had gotten to know the way to where he needed to go over the past few days. He found what he was looking for, the ice box with the ice chips in. He filled a cup with some and returned to Gibbs.

"Here, have one of these." Callen placed one in Gibbs' mouth. "Give it a few minutes, you might feel like talking then."

"Where…"

"Where are we?" Callen helped him. Gibbs nodded slightly. "We're on the USS Ronald Reagan, about to port at San Diego." Callen saw surprise on Gibbs's face. "Yeah, head spinning stuff. One minute you're north of St Petersburg, the next, you're almost at San Diego. I can see how that can make you dizzy." He was trying to be light in his conversation, but the worry for his friend remained in his eyes.

"Are we safe?" Gibbs croaked out.

"We are." Callen smiled. "It won't be long before we're back in Los Angeles, life can return to normal." He felt relief flood his system. He was home and safe from enemies of his father's.

"For you. I've still have to go back to D.C." Gibbs struggled to get out.

"Not for a while. You'll be looked after in the Naval Medical Centre here in San Diego, until you're well enough. Maybe another week. Behave and they may let you our sooner." Callen gave him a cheeky grin.

"It's good to see you happy again, Callen."

"It's Grisha now, do you remember?" Gibbs turned his head and saw Garrison looking back at him. "You brought your father with us?"

"Of course. It's too dangerous for him to remain in Russia, even with Kozlov gone." Callen's eyes darted over to his father. He prayed no more enemies peeped out of the woodwork.

"Good. You need to be together, you've been separated for too long."

"You're telling me," Callen heaved out. "I better let you rest. I'll let your doctor know you're awake.

It didn't take long for word to reach his doctor and for the Reagan to dock in Port. After another hour, both Garrison and Gibbs were transported out of the carrier into ambulances, heading for the local Naval Medical Centre. Callen and Sam wanted to go with them, but a visitor waiting for them, changed all of that.

"Granger." Callen knitted his brow, their Assistant Director's presence didn't sit well with him. "Is everything okay?"

"No." Owen gestured for them to accompany him to his vehicle. Once word reached him of their impending arrival into San Diego, he'd driven south to meet them.

Callen and Sam capitulated and followed. Once they were in the vehicle, Owen indicated it wasn't safe to talk. Not yet anyway. The drive to the Medical Centre was held in silence until they stepped out.

"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" Sam's patience was running thin.

"Can't afford to talk, just incase my car's been bugged. I've run a bug detector over it, but anyone inside OSP could have tampered with it."

"The mole thing still." Callen realised. "You think Sparks had someone else inside OSP?"

"Not sure. But one thing we do know is that there were men here in Los Angeles looking for your families."

"You wait to tell us this now?" Sam was not impressed being kept in the dark. Especially when it came to his family.

"We left them in your care, Granger." Fear for his pregnant wife and children overwhelmed the seasoned agent.

"And I've looked after them. They're safe. But—-" he gestured for them to follow him towards the building. "It's not safe for them to return to Los Angeles, nor for you to join them."

Annoyance flashed over both agents' faces.

"Who's looking after them?" Callen inquired.

"Deeks and Blye."

Both men nodded. They knew their team mates would protect them well. Even though Michelle and Nell were capable of looking after themselves.

"What do you want us to do while we wait?" Callen didn't want to sit idle in the meantime. He'd worked hard to destroy his father's enemies to keep his family safe.

"Sit here and guard Agent Gibbs and your father."

Callen stopped. "You think they're in danger inside the Naval Hospital?"

Granger sighed. "We don't know. Beale and I are working hard to find any anomalies with any of our staff. So far, they're all clean."

"Why does that sound familiar?" Callen grumbled. "The last time we had a mole inside our walls, you were poisoned, we lost Helen, and Eric was taken prisoner."

"Callen." Owen looked intently over to him. "How are they?"

"Healing. My father has been better than expected. Gibbs came out of his coma an hour and a half ago. Both are expected to make full recovery."

Owen nodded. "Good." He followed his agents inside the building and up to the second floor, where they were being assessed by the on duty neurosurgeon. The three men sat and waited until they were able to join them.


	18. Chapter 18

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 18**

Once Callen was led through to sit with his father, Owen pulled Sam to a quiet room to talk.

"What haven't you told us?" Sam pressed.

"Your house is a mess. I've had contractors working hard on your house to repair the damage, but you might not feel safe returning to live there again." Owen looked out the window at the darkening sky.

Sam's muscles rippled under his clothing. A rage he suppressed wanted to burst through and destroy these men who hunted his family. Thankfully, Owen Granger had moved his family to this unknown safe location, wherever that was. He couldn't imagine the effects it was having on his daughter. He'd tried his best to keep the danger of his work away from his children, but it came back to haunt him just the same.

"Michelle, Kamran, Nell and the kids were far from Los Angeles when this happened. But what we do know, is that someone gave them your home address. Until we can find if this came from Sparks or from someone else, they have to remain where they are."

"How long are we talking about?" Sam missed them and although he'd just spent a day with his son, he wanted to wrap his arms around his wife and daughter sooner rather than later.

"It could be a few days to a few months. I don't know, Sam. I wish I could give you more."

"You know Gibbs and Garrison will be released from here before long."

"I know. Which is why I have arranged for you all to stay at Dovecote. Hetty's been released from hospital. She'd appreciate the company."

"That's good." Sam nodded. "Can I call Michelle?"

"Only on this phone. You can call Deeks or Blye on the burn phones I gave them."

"Thanks." Sam walked away, dialling. He couldn't wait to hear his wife's voice.

A familiar southern California accent greeted him. "Any news on Sam or Callen?" Deeks asked immediately.

"Hey, Deeks." Sam smiled at the commotion from the other end of the call. Deeks whooped and called Michelle and Kamran over to him.

"Hey, Sam. Man am I pleased to hear your voice. Here's Michelle." Deeks quickly passed his burn phone over to her.

"Sam!" Michelle smiled at her daughter, who clung onto her to hear her father's voice. "Kam's here, she wants to talk to you too."

"Hey beautiful. Put me on speaker phone." He chuckled as he heard the excitement in his daughter's voice.

"Dad."

"Hey, Pumpkin. Are you taking good care of your mother for me?" His dimples deepened, the worry escaped from his mind while he enjoyed this moment with his family.

Kamran looked up into her mother's milky brown eyes and smiled. "You know I am."

"Good girl." Sam chuckled. Kamran was sounding more like Michelle as she grew. She'll be tough like her mother when she's ready to head off to college. No guy will ever take advantage of his baby girl. All those judo lessons were paying off.

"Where are you?" Michelle piped in. She gathered Deeks hadn't expected Sam to be on the other end of the call, by the way he answered, which gave her hope he was back state side.

"We're in San Diego." Sam paused for a moment. "Hey, Pumpkin. Okay if I talk one on one with your mother for a moment?"

"Sure thing, Dad. Bye" Kamran relaxed. Her dad sounded fine. She wandered off to see what she could do to help Nell with the little ones.

"Sam, what's going on?" Michelle left the confines of the house and walked onto the sandy beach for privacy.

"Aiden sends his love."

"You've seen Aiden?" A smile spread across her lips. "How is he?"

"He's great, Shell. Becoming more like his old man every time I see him." Sam watched the comings and goings outside the hospital. He hoped they remained safe while they waited for Gibbs and Garrison to heal from their injuries.

"Granger sent his unit to help you, didn't he?" The reality of the situation back in St Petersburg returned like a whack at the back of the head for Michelle.

"Yes," Sam replied honestly. "Good thing too. Someone betrayed Callen's father. Gibbs and his father were tortured before we could rescue them. You'll be proud of Aiden. He was a great asset over there."

"Is he okay?" Worry lines etched in her brow.

"Relax, Shell. He's fine. He and his team helped us, we couldn't have done it without them. Not a scratch on him." He held back the details of the mission, that Aiden had been the one who'd entered Kozlov's mansion with him. Michelle wouldn't have liked the fact that she could have lost both her husband and son in the one mission. That was why family members were usually split up—-well except for when Sidorov came back to town, and Michelle had to return as Quinn. Sam and Michelle were both placed in danger on that mission, but they really didn't have a choice. They had Deeks to thank for keeping them safe, for killing Sidorov, before Michelle had been whisked away by helicopter and never seen again.

Sam could hear Michelle exhale on the other end of the call. "Granger won't tell us where you are. Until we know if there was anyone else working along with Sparks, you have to stay there."

"How long?" Michelle moved along the beach, her eyes scanned the immediate area, she needed to relax, realise they were safe.

"A few days, weeks, maybe months," Sam revealed.

"Months?" Michelle's voice raised in volume from the shock of his reply. She was glad she was alone.

"The only contact Granger will allow is on these burn phones. He doesn't trust anyone outside our team. G and I are heading to Hetty's, she's now out of hospital. It's not safe for either of us to return to our homes, just in case.

Michelle shook her head. "No, not after what we heard. Owen tell you what happened to our house?"

"Yes." Sam swallowed the hard lump that formed in his throat. He was thankful for Granger's quick thinking in moving both of their families out of the city of Angels, until he knew more. Although Kozlov was dead, there were still men at large in Los Angeles, looking for their families. No risk could be taken. It was going to be hard heading back, but not going home. "We'll find another place to call home, Shell. Somewhere safer, that only the team know of."

Michelle nodded. "Tell Granger to keep us posted on things. It's going to be a long wait from our end."

"I will. I miss you, babe."

"I miss you too, Samuel Hanna. Stay safe until this is all over."

"Will do. I love you."

"I love you too." Michelle disconnected the called and heaved out a heavy breath. She missed her husband more than she let on. She might be a fully trained agent, but she'd prefer it if he and Callen were there with them, not hundreds of miles south of their location. It was difficult not to divulge where they were. She couldn't risk it. At least they had Deeks and Kensi to help protect them. It was Nell and the kids she worried about the most.

* * *

Marty Deeks watched his partner from a distance. She was quiet, unusually so, and it worried him. He watched her with Nell's kids. She appeared at ease with them, playing dress ups, colouring and reading to them. A smile hinted at his lips, but he quickly hid it and looked back down at his newspaper, before Kensi caught him watching her. Her senses were good. Real good. So if he was to continue watching her without getting caught out, he had to be better than good. She appeared more relaxed with the kids than she did with him at present. Perhaps Alice and Tristan were great distractions to her. But when the two of them were on their own, going out onto the beach, or for a run in the neighbourhood, she was guarded. Something was going on with his partner, and he didn't know what it was.

He left if for a few days. She'd vanished in her SUV for an hour. When he questioned Nell about it, she said she needed gas and was picking up some groceries. He nodded, but he watched Nell closely just the same. Did she know something? Kensi and Nell were tight on girl things, and he was pleased the two friends were reunited. But still, it did nothing to dispel the worry that formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Whatcha doin'?" Nell crept up behind him. He had his eyes out at the ocean, wishing to grab the surfboard that rested on the side of the house and catch some waves. The waves were clean rolling waves, perfect for a surf.

"Pondering."

Nell ached her brows. "On what?"

Deeks nodded in the direction of the surfboard. "On whether to take that board out and catch some waves."

"Why are you pondering? We're stuck here for who knows how long, Deeks. You might as well make the most of it. If I wasn't knocked up, I'd go myself."

Deeks chuckled. "Wait until I tell Callen he's stopped his wife from surfing by being knocked up."

A smirk formed on Nell's lips. "He called earlier. He's brought his father with him."

"I heard. Granger mentioned it. That's great news." He turned his head and faced her directly. "Any news on his name yet?"

Nell shook her head. "He's not said."

Deeks narrowed his eyes. "You're lying. You know and you're not saying."

Michelle walked out onto the rear deck and cocked her head sideways. "Nell knows what?"

Nell looked up and blushed.

Deeks noticed and knew immediately he'd been correct. "Callen's name."

Michelle turned and looked at her. "Why didn't you say?"

"It's not my news to tell." She glared at Deeks.

"Oh come on, Nell. We could be stuck here for months before we see the rest of the team. That's months of you knowing and not being able to tell a soul."

Nell pursed her lips and pretended to lock them tight and throw away the keys. "That would be telling."

Michelle smiled warmly over to Nell. "I know I can trust you with a secret."

Nell beamed. "Thanks, Shell." Nell entered back into the house, she'd been watching Deeks watch Kensi for a few days. She knew he'd noticed something different about his partner. After their talk the other day, Kensi had put off buying a pregnancy test. Finally, Nell had persuaded her to go. She only hoped she was right and Kensi was pregnant. After years of trying, they really could do with the good news.

Deeks decided to head out and catch a few waves. While Kensi was out, it would fill in the time, while he waited for her return. The salt water lapped at his sides as he paddled out beyond the breaks. He loved the feeling of the water moving beneath him and the board. It was soothing. A calm he needed after a crazy time between Canada and Los Angeles. After a ten minutes wait, the perfect wave approached. He turned and paddled hard, pushing himself ready to ride. The wave didn't disappoint. He successfully caught the ride and jumped up onto his feet, pushing the board along the crest of the wave. He flicked the board beneath him, high up and turned back into the depths of the wave, waiting for another chance to jump up and over the wave.

* * *

Kensi parked the car at the nearest point at the beach to the house. She sat there and watched Marty surf. Her lips turned upwards when she saw the delight in his face. He loved surfing. There was no doubt about it. Like she loved her running and yoga. She'd learned to surf, so she could keep him company out on the waves. The skills she learned came in good steads when a case involving surfers came their way. But she wouldn't be joining him today. Nor for the next seven months. The pregnancy test came out positive. Her hand rested on her flat stomach. After years of trying, why did it just suddenly happen? She'd been distracted by all the events of finding Callen and Nell, living a secret life on Vancouver Island, but they were in danger, and the team had to go in to rescue them, unaware of her own condition. She'd placed her unborn child at risk. She pulled out her burn phone and placed the call.

"Agent Blye." Owen Granger's gruff voice greeted her.

"Is it safe to talk?"

Owen Granger smiled. He enjoyed watching Callen sit with his father, talking. It was so good to see father and son together at last. "Yes." He walked into a quiet room and looked out the window to distract his thoughts. "What's up?"

"How long will we be here?"

"I don't know. Why? We've already discussed this." Owen Granger ran his hand over his tired face. He needed a good night's sleep. He'd been too worried over his people to sleep more than three hours at most.

"You need it to be Deeks and me here, not Callen or Sam?"

"It's not safe for either of them to go to you."

Kensi nodded her head, although she knew her boss couldn't see it.

"What's going on, Kensi?" Owen's voice softened towards his best friend's daughter.

"I've just found out I'm pregnant." She caught the emotion in her voice before it slipped out. Her hormones were playing havoc with her, there was only a matter of time before Deeks confronted her on her behaviour.

Owen Granger couldn't help but smile. "Congratulation. That's great news. Deeks must be over the moon."

"I haven't told him. I've only just found out." Kensi hesitated. "I'm not going to be able to protect the kids."

"You're worried?" Owen Granger was out of his depth when it came to pregnant women. "Look, Kensi. You're a great sniper like your father. I know you can protect everyone including your partner from up a tree. Being pregnant won't prevent you from your sharp shooting skills. I understand your concern, the safety of your baby. But you are safe where you are. I sent you and Deeks on precautionary measures, just incase the two of you were targeted next. I have Beale on lockdown inside the Ops Centre, and I'm sending Sam and Callen to Dovecote to keep Hetty safe. I'm doing everything I can to keep my number one team safe. This whole mole saga was all about Kozlov getting to Callen and then to his father. Kozlov is dead. Sparks is dead. All Beale and I am looking for is a possible associate. Once we've searched and are satisfied all is safe, you can all return home. Don't think for one moment you're letting me down."

Kensi heaved out the breath she'd been holding. "Thanks, Assistant Director."

"Go and tell Deeks before he goes crazy wondering what's bothering you."

"I will." She wiped at the tears. She turned the ignition on and headed back to the house. She carried the groceries inside and handed Alice and Tristan a mandarine each. After all the food had been packed away, Kensi wandered out onto the sand and waited for Deeks to come in from the water.

It was another half hour before Deeks ran out of the water, carrying the surfboard. He shook his wet locks, he really did look like his dog, Monty. A sadness tugged at her. She missed the mutt. He'd died in his sleep two years ago, from old age. At least Deeks had given him a good retirement before he died.

"Hey!"

"Hey!" Kensi replied. "Good surf?"

Deeks grinned. "Oh, man. The waves are perfect. You should join me out there, babe."

Kensi smiled. "It does look good."

"How about it?"

Kensi shook her head. "Not today."

Deeks tilted his head. "Are you feeling okay?"

A deep laugh escaped her throat. Where should she start.

Deeks knitted his brows in confusion.

"Oh boy!" Kensi played with her hair that danced in the wind. "I feel sick, Deeks. Every morning. I'm tired after a good night's sleep. I cry at the drop of a hat."

The light switched on in Deek's head. A grin spread across his features. His eyes danced with delight. He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her. "You are so beautiful, Kens. I love you so much." He kissed her gently on the temple. He lifted her chin up and stared into her eyes. "I'll take great care of both of you."

"I know you will." A smile hinted on her lips. She loved to see him happy. She knew this news would make him even happier. She should be too, but she couldn't help but worry.

"You're worrying," Deeks stated. He frowned at her. "Why are you worrying, Kens? We've wanted this for so long."

"I know." She tried to break free of his hold, but he wasn't letting her go. Not yet. He was good at forcing her hand to talk out her feelings. "It's just with all that's happened to Callen and Nell, then to the Hanna's home. What if—-"

Deeks pressed his fingers to her lips. "No what ifs, Kens. This is what we hoped for. I'm going to look after you both." He kissed her firmly on the lips, urging and going deeper. He couldn't love her more than he did at that moment.


	19. Chapter 19

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 19**

 **Los Angeles**

It had taken Eric Beale another week of searching for any anomalies, before signs of the Russian hitmen came out of the cracks in Los Angeles. Locked inside Ops had been no fun, neither being left apart from his team, his family. He'd missed Nell for five years, and after only a brief visit, she'd been whisked away from him again. She was now a mother. Her life changed forever, and he wondered if there was ever a chance of their friendship to return, once this chaos settled. There were pressure from the Secretary of Defence for NCIS to sort out the mess within its ranks.

Eric dialled their Assistant Director. "We have a problem. A Russian problem."

Owen frowned. "Where?"

"Here."

"OSP?" Owen Granger looked at his senior agents. They were discussing who could possibly be the link to Sparks within their office with Hetty. Gibbs and Garrison had been released from hospital only the day before, both men had been settled into Dovecote, and Hetty's home had become the recovery retreat, with three of them recovering from their injuries. Thankfully, no one else had been injured. But now Eric's alarm had every muscle in his body tense. The situation wasn't good. Someone had revealed their secret location to the Russians. There was another mole within OSP. There was no doubt about it now.

"Outside, or have they breached?" Owen inquired, waving his hand to catch Callen and Sam's attention.

"Currently outside. But they're trying to get inside, Sir." Eric Beale's foot tapped on the dark cool floor of Ops from nerves. He never did well under threat from the bad guys. He felt safe in Ops, but if these Russians who had massacred the Hanna home a week earlier were anything to go by, no one would be safe if they got inside."

"Shut Ops down, Beale. Go through your escape plan, I'll have Callen and Hanna meet you there." Thankfully it was early, no one else had arrived into the mission at this time." Callen and Sam understood Granger's instructions and left immediately. They were thankful for the secret passages out of that old water treatment building. How many times had the usage of it been a success. Thankfully, only a handful of staff knew of its existence.

"Will do." Eric immediately shut the computer system into lockdown. Without his passcode to log in again, the system will delete everything on there. It was situations like the one he found himself in now, that this procedure had been set in place. He locked the Ops Centre down tight, no one without the code could get in. Granger had him change the code every day, just to be on the safe side. If anyone got their hands on him, too many secrets could be revealed. He wasn't tough like the trained agents, as he was only there for his computer skills, therefore he could fold under stress or torture. Owen Granger felt the strong need to protect their Technical Operator at all costs.

Scanning his surroundings, he held his government issue weapon out in front of him as he made his way down the stairs. His heart pounded heavily inside his chest, like waves pounding on the sandy shores. Relief washed over him when he made his way into the store room, locking the door behind him. He moved behind the metal shelving in through the secret doorway. Hetty had thought of everything. The metal shelving moved with the secret doorway, so whoever came in search for him, no one would suspect that the shelving had been moved.

Quietly, he moved in the shadows of the tunnel. Hetty had provided a safe hiding place for him and Nell—-for the days when she used to work beside him, to stay put until the field agents arrived to take them to a safe place. Safely tucked away in the small confined space, Eric pulled the tablet out of his backpack and watched the Russian mercenaries breach the doors into the Office of Special Projects. His body jerked from fear, as he watched them move through the building, searching, looking. Not for things, but for people. He knew this by the way they searched. They didn't look in desk draws, or the filing room. They moved with one smooth movement up towards the Ops Centre.

Eric's mind rolled over of all the staff inside the mission, trying to find an anomaly on who was the mole. He blinked his eyes and shook his head. He couldn't figure the mole out. He needed Callen's instincts for this kind of assessment. His paranoia would help Eric in this situation. He trusted no one. But from what Eric did know, whoever the mole was, they knew exactly where to go.

Bullets ricocheted off the doors to Ops, as one of the Russians tried to fire their way inside the tech filled room. Whoever it was, they didn't know the fail safe way to enter Ops was through a fire emergency. So it had to be someone who didn't know that information. He eliminated the number one team, Hetty, Granger and Nell from his list of suspects. He sighed with relief it wasn't any of them. He couldn't face it if the mole was one of them. Then again, it was stupid to even think it could have been any of them. Let's face it. Why would Sam or Callen risk either of their families? They were brothers. Family. Nor could he see Kensi or Deeks being the mole either, which is why Granger trusted only them to take the Hanna and Callen families to a safe location, that not even he was privy to. Was it one of the support staff? He knew Hetty and Granger had gone over every member of the staff after the last mole in the office had been found. He'd spent the last week going over all of their lives with a fine tooth comb. Nothing.

Loud shouting in Russian echoed through the building. They were angry because they couldn't get inside of Ops. A smiled formed on Eric's lips. No one was as smart as he was when it came to computers. He did after all break the internet. Who else could claim that title on their resume?

One of the men dialled a phone. This was interesting, Eric thought. Who are you calling? You're inside contact? He watched and waited. They spoke Russian, so whoever was the mole, knew the language. He typed away, hoping to get details of the call. Not having the phone numbers made it difficult to trace, instead he isolated cells within the mission.

"Gotcha!" Eric Beale smiled. Two cell numbers came up on display. He typed one into the system. "U-huh! He traced the call and frowned. "That can't be right?"

"Eric?" Callen's voice softly came through the door.

"In here. Coming." He unlocked the door and stood up to full height, extending his body after being tucked away inside the cramped hiding spot.

"Let's get you out of here." Callen urged. Sam stood guard, incase the Russians found this tunnel.

"Hang on." Eric took in a deep breath. "Callen." He looked at the senior agent. The strain of the past couple of weeks was taking a toll on him and his partner. "I think I've found our mole."

Sam and Callen stared at him. "Who?"

"Well." Eric started. "It doesn't make sense."

"Who is the mole, Eric?" Sam whispered, his patience wasn't good in situations like this one. They needed to get Eric to a safe location.

More gunfire echoed above them within the mission. "Let's get out of here." Callen pulled Eric along. "We can talk once you're safe."

Eric nodded. He ran along the tunnel until they made it a block away to where Sam's challenger sat waiting for them. He jumped into the rear of the shiny black vehicle and buckled in. "Where are we going now?"

"Dovecote." Sam advised him. "You can tell us who the mole is now, Eric."

Eric swallowed the hard lump that had formed inside his throat. This was going to be hard. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Eric?" Callen turned and studied the blonde tech carefully. "What's wrong?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Eric?" Sam pushed.

"It's Nate."

"What?" Both men replied in shock.

"Are you sure?" Sam inquired further.

"Look!" Eric found his strength and his voice boomed inside the vehicle. "I know it doesn't make any sense to us. But all I can tell you, is that one of those Russians called his cell."

The senior agents remained silent for a moment, taking the news that Eric had given them, to sink in. Nate Getz was one of them. He was the guy they let their walls down to, when they needed to speak about the bad things that went on in their job. It wasn't pretty, but they needed to talk it out with someone. Nate had been there for them all, through the good, the bad and the ugly. But his lack of presence in recent years had distanced them from their old friend. Nell had known Nate for longer than any of them. This news was going to be difficult for her as well.

"No!" Callen blurted out. "It can't be him." Callen fisted his hands tight. He'd trusted the tall man for years, way back when Macy ran things. All his little secrets exposed. Nate was the one who'd helped him open up about his fear of abandonment. He'd told him everything he knew about his own search in finding his father, once he had a name. He punched the door hard, regretting the action immediately, as pain ran up his arm. "I'm going to kill him." Callen breathed out. Anger laced his words.

Sam looked worriedly over to his partner. Callen wasn't taking this news well. Nate had been there for all of them, Sam knew this well, especially when Michelle had been called back to work as Quinn, and he'd been tortured. Hetty brought him back, so he had someone familiar to talk to. How much of his own fears had he exposed to the Operational Psychologist? "Are you sure Nate still has that number, Eric?"

Eric's eyes met Sam's through the rear mirror. "It still comes up on my system as his number."

"Call it," Sam suggested.

"What now?"

"Yes, now," Sam told him.

"No wait." Callen thought for a moment. Let me call him. I'll use this burn phone Granger gave me. Pull over for a few minutes, Sam."

Sam found a safe place to pull over, it was a quiet street away from the main thorough fare, so it was less likely any Russians would find them there.

Callen dialled the phone number they all knew belonged to Nate, he had it on speaker. It continued to dial for much longer than any of them expected. Then a female voice answered in Russian. "Hello?"

Callen furrowed his brow. The voice was very familiar to him, but he couldn't put a finger on who it was. He replied in Russian. "We couldn't find him. Where do you suggest we look now?"

The woman sighed. "He should be there. I placed a bug on him at the cafe earlier. It says he is still there."

Sam and Eric looked at each other puzzled. Neither of them could understand the language, they had no clue on what either of them were saying.

"We need to find him. He has all the answers to finding the others."

"I know that. You cannot blame me that Callen vanished from my sight five years ago. I did what I could. I did everything you asked of me."

Callen paled. He knew the voice. "No you didn't. You kept him alive. You had your chance to kill him."

"I couldn't. I explained to you why. My father didn't want him dead. He wanted him watched, in hope to find his father. That traitor!" she spat out.

"It's too late now. There was no one at the Hanna's house either. They've all left the city. This place is like a ghost town."

"I know. I've tried calling Michelle. She's not answered in over a week."

"You are useless. If it wasn't for who you are, you'd have been punished for your inability to do your job." Real anger laced Callen's words. He was pleased he never spoke Russian around her now. "We can't stay here. An alarm's gone off. I'll call you in two hours. You better have more information for me." Callen disconnected the call and pushed the door open, climbing out. He paced the pavement, trying to get rid of the anger inside of him. His mind was a blur. He'd trusted her. Sam and Michelle told him she could be trusted. They'd set them up on a blind date, for goodness sake.

"G!" Sam stepped out and walked over to him. "Who is she?"

Callen looked up, his cerulean orbs were cold like ice. "You didn't recognise that voice?"

"I couldn't understand the language, G." Sam watched the myriad of emotions wash over Callen's face.

"It's Joelle, Sam. She's not who we thought she was. She's…I think she's Kovlov's daughter."

"What?" Sam was in shock with this news. "But he didn't have any children. Wasn't this the reason why he hated your father so much, because he'd helped the woman he loved, escape to the U.S.?"

"So we were led to believe. But I tricked her into divulging too much information. She mentioned me. I told her she had her chance to kill me, but she didn't. She replied, telling me, that she'd explained that already, that her father didn't want me dead, hoping I could lead them to my father." He felt dirty and ill in the stomach. He'd at one point thought that they could have had something strong, possibly have a family. But after all the times the Comescus and Janvier had tried to get to him, he had broken it off with her, to protect her. But now he realised, she was the enemy. The daughter of one of his father's enemies. He leaned over into a bush and spewed up the contents of his breakfast.

"Crap, G!" Sam turned and gave his partner some privacy. This latest news was a blow. But there was a puzzle. "How come she had Nate's cell number?"

Callen walked over to the challenger and pulled out a bottle of water. He rinsed and then swallowed. He hated that acid feeling in his mouth and throat. "I don't know. I never got to finding out." He dialled his cell. This time a very familiar voice answered.

"Mr Callen?"

"Hetty. Why does Joelle have Nate's old cell number?"

Henrietta Lange sat in her armchair in her orangery, admiring her roses. "That is a good question, Mr Callen. Why would she?"

"Do you have another way to contact Nate?"

Hetty pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "I'll see if I can. I'll call you back."

"We're on our way to drop Eric off. Sam and I need to pay Joelle a visit. It appears she may be Kozlov's daughter."

The blood rushed from Hetty's face, worrying Owen Granger greatly.

"Oh, Mr Callen. This isn't good news at all. Update me when you drop Mr Beale off." She placed her cell down and shook her head. She looked back at Owen with sadness in her eyes.

"What is it, Henrietta?"

"It appears Miss Taylor isn't whom we thought she was."

"Caleb's ex?"

"Yes. They're on their way back with Mr Beale." Hetty pursed her lips together. "Do you know why Miss Taylor would be in possession of Dr Getz's cell number?"

Owen Granger looked back at her, his eyes widened, his mouth slightly ajar. "She's what?"

Clearly Owen knew nothing of this, Hetty mused. She sifted through information from her own meeting of Miss Taylor. But there was never a time her Operations Psychologist and Miss Taylor could ever have met, let alone she have his cell number. Something was amiss, and she hated an unsolved puzzle.


	20. Chapter 20

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 20**

Callen, Sam and Owen sat in the car down the street from Joelle Taylor's house. The sun was setting, another beautiful summer's day had shone brightly down on the city of angels. They'd been watching for an hour, Callen was restless.

"Will you stop fidgeting, G," Sam bickered.

"What will you have me do, huh? What would you do if your ex-girlfriend was the daughter of one of your father's enemies?" Callen snapped back. Owen Granger had stopped him from exiting the vehicle and walking straight up to Joelle's front door and ringing the bell. "Remember you're the one who set us up, pushed us together." Callen clenched his teeth. "It's a good thing I broke it off with her and ended up with Nell." He heaved out a heavy breath. Sitting still was a challenge for the seasoned agent. He needed to be doing something.

"I'm sorry, G. Michelle and I thought we'd done all the background checks on her. Obviously she's had a good cover provided for her, that we couldn't find anything to even suspect any of this." Sam mirrored his partner, heaving out a heavy breath.

Owen Granger shook his head. This mole situation had gone on too long, way before the discovery of Sparks and the Russian involvement. But he remembered another invader into the mission a few years back. A German. Matthias Draeger, who was a former spy. Hetty had dealings with him in the past, and he'd followed Hetty to the mission to take her to someone in Russia who wanted her. But the team had followed her in and rescued her, arresting Draeger instead. Someone in Russia wanted Hetty, not just Callen's father. Perhaps this mole situation was bigger than just Callen and his father after all.

"We need to move everyone out of Dovecote," Owen said out loud.

Callen and Sam turned and looked at their Assistant Director. "Why?"

"Remember what Draeger told Hetty, that someone in Russia wanted her?" Owen watched the clogs working in their brains.

"I agree," Callen replied. "And we need to speak with Draeger. But first, we need to deal with Joelle."

"I know you do, Callen," Owen admitted.

"Are you telling me that there's someone else in Russia who we need to take down?" Sam asked, clearly exhausted and missing his wife and daughter.

"Yes," Owen admitted. "Hopefully, Miss Taylor will be able to provide you with that information."

A black cadillac pulled up outside Joelle's home. "That's her father." Callen furrowed his brow. He'd met them once, mostly he'd stayed far out of their way when they were in town to see their daughter. Now he thought about it, perhaps this Mr Taylor had the answers. If he really was Joelle's father, then she wasn't Kozlov's daughter, and when she talked about her father wanting to keep Callen alive, she was talking about this man.

"I need to get closer, find out what they're talking about."

Sam nodded. "I agree."

"Okay," Owen resigned. "But we stay out of sight. We can't let the Taylors know we're on to them."

Both agents nodded in agreement and quietly moved through the neighbouring properties until they were in the backyard. Callen left Sam and Granger and moved closer to a window, one he knew was the kitchen window. He could hear their raised voices, making it even easier for Callen to hear them, although only in Russian.

"Father. It's not my fault that the men you hired can't do their job."

"You let Callen out of your grasps. He hooked up with that Jones woman, has a couple of kids with him now."

"He's a father?" Callen heard the surprise in her voice. There was regret in there too, he noted. Perhaps Joelle wasn't the bad person in this, but the pawn in her father's plans. He needed to lock away any feelings he'd once had for the red head and focus on now.

"Yes. We found them in Canada. But they've had help and escaped from us again."

"What does he have?" Joelle inquired further, clearly more interested in Callen's personal life than in her father's purpose.

"It doesn't matter," Dan Taylor snapped.

"It might not matter to you, but they should have been my children. You know how much children mean to me." Joelle hugged herself, not that Callen could see from where he was hiding.

"One of each." Dan Taylor huffed out. "Look, sweetheart. After this is over, I promise you, that you can find true love. Marry and have lots of children with him. But you knew that the whole Callen relationship was never real."

Callen heard Joelle blow her nose. "It was real to me." Oh this was going to be harder than he thought. He shut out her crying and focused on his last conversation he'd had with her two hours earlier. His anger returned.

"We have bigger problems to deal with. I cannot reach Eduard, nor his close companions. Something isn't right."

Callen smiled. All he needed now, was to find out who Dan Taylor really was and arrest him. Hopefully, he could get around having to arrest Joelle. He knew it would be hard to deal with her on his own, and Sam wasn't going to be much better—-Joelle had been Kamran's kindergarten teacher. Kam would be devastated if she knew.

"I know. The men Eduard sent can't contact him either, nor that agent Sparks." Callen noted the distaste for Sparks in Joelle's voice, which made him smile. She didn't like Sparks either. But then again, he wondered if anyone really did. He wasn't a nice person on a good day. "They've breached the secret office of that Hetty woman and Callen's. But their tech guy wasn't there. I'm certain he was in there before they arrived. He must have seen them and escaped."

"How could he have escaped? We searched the perimeter of that building five years ago and found nothing."

"I may have a way to find him. His name is Eric Beale, that I do know, and I have his home address. I also have a gift for you, father." Callen's eyes widened. He typed in a message to Granger to make sure the others had been moved from Dovecote. Eric was in danger.

"What's that, my dear?"

"Someone I know Hetty and Callen will want back alive."

Fear for everyone that mattered to Callen grew in the pit of his stomach. As far as he was concerned, everyone he cared about were safe.

"Who is he?" Dan asked. He followed her down the corridor, Callen moved along the side of the house, grateful for the cover of a lush garden, so he couldn't be seen by anyone other than Sam and Granger. He stopped when he could hear Dan and Joelle talking.

"He's Callen's shrink." Callen's eyes widened. How had Joelle managed to kidnap Nate? He's a giant unlike Joelle. He knew her strength, there was no way she could have pulled this off on her own.

"Now you're talking. How did you manage to get him? He's what, six foot, five?"

"Around that," Joelle replied. "I lured him here. He knew who I was due to my history with Callen. I spiked his drink and dragged him into this room." She smiled that sweet smile Callen knew so well, and it made his blood go ice cold. She wasn't so innocent, not now that she's kidnapped a Federal Agent. Nate may have been their Operational Psychologist, but what Joelle didn't know was that he'd moved on and worked out in the field. And now she was after Eric. But how did Joelle even know about Nate and Eric? He had to remind himself of everything, all the danger he and those he cared about were in, thanks to her. She was involved, and she may play the part well of being that sweet innocent kindergarten teacher, but never again will he trust anyone outside their team, his father and Gibbs and his team. "Oh, and if anyone from Callen's team try to trace any calls I make to the men Eduard sent out here, they'll trace it back to this man, I've been using his cell."

Joelle Taylor was pleased with herself. She'd thought about the best way to deal with the Russians, so no one could trace it back to her. She'd learned a good deal after Callen had revealed to her what he really did. He let his guard down. Little did he know, she knew all along.

"But won't he talk?" Dan pondered for a moment. "Tell them you had drugged him, stole his cell and tied him up?"

"Look at him, Father. Does he look like he's in a position to even know I was involved? For all he knows, I could have been kidnapped while he was knocked out."

Dan shook his head. "I don't know about this, sweetheart. You've been safe from harm by playing it safe. Now you have him, this is becoming risky."

"Callen may be married to Nell and have a couple of kids, but he'll never believe I could possibly be involved. I'm just a kindergarten teacher, remember?"

Dan laughed. "Yes, you're right. You played that part well."

Callen had heard enough. He sent Granger and Sam messages, that Joelle had Nate drugged and tied up inside her bedroom. They needed back up, there was no way the three of them could deal with this on their own.

"We have no choice, Callen. We need to take them both in now. Nate and Eric's lives depend on it," Granger replied.

"No!" Callen objected. "We need to see where they lead us next."

"No! Granger argued. "This mole thing has gone on long enough. Time to end this thing."

Two black SUVs showed up and the armed Russians stepped out. "Abort, Callen. We have company," Sam advised him.

Callen moved back into the shadows. He didn't' like the fact that Nate was in there, and he wanted to listen in to what was going on inside Joelle's house. It sounded like Nate was unconscious.

"I don't like this," Callen whispered. They were covered by Joelle's lush garden, it was like paradise, yet Callen felt anything but relaxed.

"Me neither. Granger, we've got to get Nate out. We can't allow these Russians to take Nate to who knows where," Sam added.

"I agree." Owen looked to Callen. "Do you have a plan?"

Callen nodded. "I do. but you're not going to like it."

Sam and Granger listened in to Callen's plan. They had to act quickly, they had no choice. It was now or risk losing Nate.

Callen rang Joelle's doorbell. A surprised Joelle answered the door. "Callen. This is a surprise." She moved out onto the front step.

"I'm checking you're okay. There was a problem at Sam and Michelle's last week. I've only just arrived back into town. I just needed to see that you're safe."

"A problem, what kind of problem?" She stood there with her hands on her hips, as if she had no clue to what the Russian men had been up to.

Meanwhile out back, Owen and Sam moved swiftly and unpicked the french doors that led into Joelle's bedroom. Nate was out cold. He was going to be dead weight, but Sam and Owen had no choice. Fortunately Sam was a strong and big built man himself. His years as a SEAL had served him well. It was safer to quickly move Nate with his limbs tied up, than to untie him and then move him. At any moment, someone inside that house could easily walk up there and catch them out. Then hell would break loose. They couldn't risk being seen.

It wasn't easy moving Nate's tall frame out of the bedroom, but they'd achieved it. Owen helped Sam haul him over his shoulder and stood guard with his weapon drawn, just in case. They moved into the bushes. They needed to get him far away, but doing this without being seen was going to be a big problem.

It was a slow process, how Callen had managed to keep Joelle occupied for so long, neither of them knew, but they were close to the rear gate out to an alley. They heard a vehicle that sounded very much like Sam's challenger appear at the end of the alley.

"Callen's coming." Sam was pleased at how well they'd slotted into their partnership after a five year break. It was almost like they'd never been apart.

Owen and Sam hauled Nate's large frame into the boot. It was easiest than to get him into he rear. "He's not going to like this," Sam stated. "But we don't have a choice." Climbing in, Callen took off.


	21. Chapter 21

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 21**

Joelle Taylor rubbed at the sharp pain in her temple. Seeing Callen suddenly after years of nothing, had unsettled her, especially considering how he looked genuinely concerned for her. She frowned as she looked at her father.

"We could have taken him," one of the Russians told her, annoyed they'd been hidden and shushed by Dan Taylor.

"I told you to keep my daughter out of this." Dan set his jaw. They had come close to being discovered. "It's not wise for you and your men to be here."

"She's already involved. And now the two of you have prevented us from taking Nikita's son. Kozlov won't be pleased when we tell him."

"I was told you can't reach him." Dan set his steely blue eyes hard at the blonde Russian.

Ivan looked at Joelle, eyeing her carefully. "Where is your prisoner?"

"At the end of the hallway." Joelle pull the bottle of Tylenol from her kitchen cupboard and swallowed with the cool water she'd poured from the fridge. She ignored them as the four men walked away looking for the shrink. She wanted them gone. All of them, including her father. She wanted her old life back.

A commotion caught her father's attention. He left her and joined the others.

"There's no one here," Ivan told him.

Dan stopped in his tracks and looked at the place where he'd seen Nate lying unconscious and tied up. "He can't just vanish. He was here a few minutes before you arrived."

Two of Ivan's men exited the French doors and ventured into the garden. They searched, but they couldn't find him anywhere. "Look!" One of them pointed to the other. They noted the number of footprints in the soil and followed them. They came to a gate and followed it through. When they came across the rear alley way, it was deserted. They walked back and told Ivan what they had found.

"There are footprints in the garden," Ivan told Dan. They walked back to the living area where Joelle was taking another gulp of the water.

"What are you talking about?" Joelle stood up and walked up to her bedroom. The room where she'd dragged Nate bore the truth that her prisoner had vanished. "Callen!" she hissed. She threw the vase over to the other wall and watched it smash.

Dan ran up to see what the smashing sound was all about. He stared at the carnage of shattered pottery on the floor. He looked at the rage in his daughter's face.

"He wasn't concerned about me," she fisted her hands at her sides. "He was distracting us while his team rescue their shrink." And to think her old feelings towards the blue eyed man had resurfaced upon seeing him. She had the urge to tighten her hands around his neck. She'd underestimated him. He knew she was involved and that she had Nate held prisoner. She picked up a porcelain girl on her tall boy, her father gripped her arm to prevent more breakage.

"That won't solve your problems. We need to get you out of town before the Feds show up here." Dan scanned the room. "I'll help you pack."

The reality of the situation sunk in Joelle's head, she was in trouble. Big trouble. And if she didn't leave now, she would spend the rest of her life sitting in a brick cell, with cat fights as her only form of entertainment. No. She wasn't going to jail. She was pleased her father had come, he would help her escape. Quickly, she packed her favourite clothes and jewellery and followed him out the door. It was too risky to drive in her vehicle, she joined her father in his hired cadillac. It was time to vanish.

* * *

Nate Getz squinted his eyes at the bright light. A lamp nearby glared into his eyes as he tried to pry them open. He sat up and instantly rubbed at his hands and ankles. They were sore and when he looked at his wrists, there were rope marks on them. He knitted his brow, thinking back. He'd been heading back to Los Angeles after another long assignment in North Africa, when an urgent request for his return to his old home town came through. Thinking it was from Hetty, he'd left immediately. On arrival home, a note had been left in an unmarked envelope for him to meet someone at a certain location. Again, he'd followed. Eventually, he found someone he'd not met before, but heard about. Joelle Taylor. It was a park and she approached him, telling him about her concerns. She'd heard about the shooting at the Hanna's home and she feared for her safety, if it had anything to do with Callen. Nate agreed to follow her to her home where she would pack and take her to a safe house.

He ran his hand through his dark locks, trying to remember anything after arriving at Joelle's house, but his mind was blank. He heard movement and before he could move from off the bed he'd been lying on, the door opened.

"You're awake."

"Callen!" Nate looked behind him, he saw Owen Granger and Sam following him into the bedroom.

"Nate." Sam nodded in his direction. "How do you feel?"

"Confused." Nate looked over at Callen. "Where's Joelle?"

Callen looked over to Granger for an answer.

"We don't know." Owen replied. "The last Eric could find, she vanished an hour ago from her home with her father. We haven't been able to find either of them nor the Russians that visited her earlier."

"What Russians?" He looked between the three men confused.

"Why were you at Joelle's?" Sam inquired. Nate noticed Callen didn't answer his question or ask the questions.

"I met her at a park. When I arrived home I found a note asking me to meet them there. It wasn't until I arrived there and she approached me, did I realise who had left the note."

"Why were you back in L.A.? Owen pressed. "You weren't expected home for another month."

Nate furrowed his brow, trying to think. "I received a message that I was required back here. I presumed it was Hetty trying to contact me."

"You were lured back. But why? It's not like we've been in contact of recent years." Callen finally said.

"By your ex-girlfriend?" Callen stiffened at the mention of his history with Joelle.

"She's not who we thought she was. We're not certain who she and her father really are, but they were both fluent in Russian. Eric's trying to find out." Callen admitted.

Nate stood and stretched his long limbs. "I was drugged?" It was the only explanation he could fathom."

"Yes. Whatever Joelle used, you were lights out for quite a few hours."

"Where are we now?" Nate didn't recognise the location."

"Safe house. One that only a few of us know about."

"You rescued me?" The men nodded. "How did you find me, or even know she had me?"

"Her slip up. Eric found your cell was being used to contact a Russian who had breached OSP. Callen called your cell, Joelle answered in Russian." Owen told him. He was worried how Joelle's involvement would affect the men beside him, working this case.

"So if she hadn't used my cell?"

"We have no idea where you'd be right now," Callen admitted. "We suspect she was handing you over to these Russians, who'd gone crazy with a couple of automatics at Sam's home last week."

Nate creased his brow. "Joelle mentioned that to me. She told me she thought she was in danger, so I went with her while she packed, to take her to a safe house. I hadn't had time to call anyone for an update."

"She lured you there. But why was she after you, and how did she find you, wherever you've been?"

"Good question." Nate pondered for a moment. "You said Russians?" The men nodded. Nate pursed his lips for a moment. "I think I was burned on my latest assignment. There was no way she could have found me. We have a mole."

Callen muffled a sarcastic laugh. "We've been trying to find a mole in OSP for years, Nate. Look, I know you've been away for a long while now, but there's been a lot going on that you need to be brought up to speed on. Now we know that somehow Joelle had found you, we need to look at who was with you on your op, and with which agency."

"You know I can't give you that information, Callen."

Annoyed, Callen shoved his hands into his jean pockets. "Help us out here, Nate. Someone is helping Joelle. There is no way she could have known where to find you."

"I had an agent with me from the CIA. A Jonathan Sparks."

"Sparks?" Callen looked to Granger. "He has a brother?"

"Yes." Owen admitted. "He works in the CIA, I never thought Jonathan was anything like his brother."

"What are you talking about?" Nate asked confused. His head felt heavy, the drugs were still working in his system, making him fuzzy.

"There was an agent in our North West office, Damien Sparks. He's hated Callen for as long as I can remember," Sam filled in. "We have proof he's been spying on Callen and the team for years for a Russian minister. Does the name Eduard Kozlov mean anything to you?"

Nate nodded. "It does. He's caused trouble for a mission I worked on two years ago. We had to shut our mission down and get out of St Petersburg ASAP. That's why I've never been back since."

"Huh!" Callen looked to Sam. "Sound familiar?"

"Yeah! But this time, we dealt with him for good."

"You better fill me in." Nate listen to the others fill him in on the goings on in OSP and the situation in Canada and then in St Petersburg. So much had happened, it made Nate realise just how long he'd been out of the loop of OSP.

"I need to make this call," Owen announced. "I need the CIA to lockdown Jonathan Sparks before he flees, or one of Kozlov's men get to him."

"What happened to his brother?" Nate asked.

"He's dead. Kozlov had his hitman kill him in Saudi Arabia, over a week ago." Granger shook his head. "We've let this mole situation get out of hand. We let it go on for too long. And now I think this also has to do with Hetty, when Matthias Draeger tried to kidnap her. He said that someone in Russia wanted her. With Kozlov dead, that leaves us with Dan Taylor, or whoever he really is."

"What's the link between Callen's father and Hetty?" Sam was puzzled over this added intel Granger briefed them on.

Callen looked up at his partner. "I don't know. But something tells me, Hetty knows."

"Sam's right. What's the connection there?" Owen agreed with the puzzle that was bothering Sam. The pieces weren't adding up.

"When we were in Moscow the last time, Hetty admitted to me that she had worked undercover with a man named Konstantine Chernoff. Hetty suspected he was really Nikita, my father."

"Who's now known by Garrison," Sam added.

Callen nodded. "Yes. But this is the interesting part. I met Hetty inside a church. She told me that she and Chernoff were married under new aliases for their assignment. If I'm correct, this is all about that mission."

"Where are you going?" Sam watched Callen go to leave the room.

"To ask Hetty and my father, who was involved in that mission. They may have the answer to who Dan Taylor is."

"Go. I'll have Beale search into the CIA database. This goes way back before NCIS days." Owen sent Eric a message of the details. He hoped between Hetty, Garrison and Eric's searches, they could put this mole debacle to rest sooner than later.


	22. Chapter 22

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

 **Bandon, Oregon**

When Marty Deeks' burn phone rang, he jumped with a start. He'd been deep in his sleep beside his beautiful pregnant partner. His lips shifted into a grin he just couldn't suppress. Finally, they were having a baby.

"Deeks." Sam's voice sounded concerned and urgent.

"Yeah, Sam. Do you know what time it is?" His eyes focused on the clock, two am stared back at him.

"I do. We have a problem." Deeks' eyes widened and suddenly he felt fully awake.

"What kind of problem?" He moved out of the bedroom, he didn't want to disturb Kensi while she slept. Growing a baby was hard work. He padded lightly out to the rear deck and sat on a chair.

"The Russians who invaded the Hanna's home breached OSP."

Deeks inhaled sharply. "Is everyone okay?" Worry for Eric, support staff and other agents etched in his forehead.

"Yes. But Nate was kidnapped," Sam finally added.

"Hang on. You just said everyone was okay." He stood and paced the deck, his adrenaline rushed, he couldn't keep still.

"He's fine now. We had to rescue him."

"From the Russians?"

"Yes." Sam hesitated on what to say next, but it was imperative that Deeks knew, just in case Joelle tried to contact any of them. It was a risk he couldn't afford.

"But isn't Nate overseas on some secret mission?" Deeks' mind spiralled through a myriad of thoughts at once.

"He was lured back to Los Angeles. He thought Hetty was needing him back. He was then lured to a park, where he met someone whom he thought was safe. Which placed him inside that person's home, where he was drugged and tied up for quite a few hours. They were about to hand Nate over to these Russians, only we found Nate and organised a rescue." Sam looked across the room at Callen who was quietly talking to Hetty and his father. Without a photo of Dan Taylor, Garrison and Hetty couldn't help them. It was down to Eric, who was already working almost around the clock. The tech looked tired and highly strung, obviously worried about everyone.

"By who?" Deeks' body tensed, as he waited to hear who had betrayed Nate. His mind rushed through everyone at OSP, but he couldn't think to who would even have access to know where Nate was overseas. Not even Hetty had that kind of access.

"Joelle." Sam let the name hang in the air, allowing Deeks to take the news in.

"Crap!" Deeks looked up, Michelle stood at the doorway watching him. "How's Callen taking this news? How are you dealing with this?"

"The best he can. The best we both can," Sam admitted. "We think Joelle's father is Russian. Callen caught Joelle speaking the language, it's a long story, but we have Eric to thank for finding the link to Nate."

Deeks nodded, not that Sam could see it. His mind buzzed. "So Kozlov wasn't working alone then?"

"No. Granger thinks it also has to do with Hetty." Sam eyed his partner who was still in conversation with Hetty and Garrison. "Apparently, Hetty and Callen's father, had gone undercover together years ago. Hetty didn't know he was Nikita, he was using a different name, so she hadn't made the connection to Callen nor his mother. Their aliases married in Moscow for the mission. It's this mission Callen suspects is what this whole mole debacle is all about. Eric's trying to find out who Joelle's father really is."

"Draeger did tell Hetty that someone in Russia wanted her," Deeks remembered. "Do you want me to tell Michelle any of this?"

Sam hesitated. He knew he needed to, just in case Joelle tried to lure her into trap, like she had with Nate. But at the same time, he was torn, because Michelle and Joelle had been good friends. "Yes. She needs to know. Go easy on her, will you?"

"Why don't you tell her yourself?" Deeks thought Michelle would take the news better coming from her husband than himself.

Sam sighed. "Is she there?" He gathered that was why Deeks had suggested it. But he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Sam?" His wife sounded confused over why he was calling during the night. "What's going on?"

"Shell. Babe. I'm sorry, but this isn't good news."

"What is it, Sam? Are you hurt? Is Callen—-"

"It's Joelle, Shell. She's not who we thought she was." Sam heaved out the heavy breath he'd been holding in, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He never liked it when people betrayed their friends.

"What do you mean?" Michelle had taken particular care in doing her own background check on her daughter's kindergarten teacher before Kamran started in her class. It was for her daughter's safety and for their own, that she'd done so, unbeknownst to her, Sam had done the same thing.

"Did you know she spoke fluent Russian?" Sam inquired. He could understand why his wife would struggle to understand how Joelle could possibly not be who they knew her to be. His guilt laid heavily on his shoulders.

"No." Michelle knitted her brows, confused. "She 's Russian?"

"Not sure, but her father definitely is. Eric's trying to find out who he really is. But we do know he's been working alongside Kozlov to take Callen's father down, and that he'd placed his daughter into our lives for Callen." Sam shook his head, how had they fallen for her innocence?

Michelle narrowed her eyes and set her jaw tight. She didn't like what Sam was telling her, but that didn't mean he was wrong. "Why are you calling now, and not in the morning?"

"She's vanished with her father. She now knows we know she's involved in all of this. If you hear from her, do not answer, nor attempt to tell her where you are or to meet her. She's already kidnapped Nate."

"What? But she's small compared to Nate. How could she do this?" Sam went on to explain.

"Promise me, Shell."

"I promise. I miss you, Sam. When can we come home?"

"Not sure. We have to find a few people first. Let us finish this, then when we know it's safe, you can come home." Sam rubbed his hand over his face, tiredness was sinking in fast. "I miss you and Kam too. Love you."

"Love you too, Sam." Michelle disconnected the call and placed the cell on the table. She took in a few deep breaths, worried about how her daughter would receive the news that her kindergarten teacher was working with the Russians who'd splattered their family home with bullets.

She knew she couldn't sleep, not now after the news Sam had told her. Deeks wasn't doing too well either. "I'll boil the kettle. I think we could both do with a cup of tea to settle our nerves with."

"Michelle?" Marty moved towards her. "I'm sorry about Joelle. I know the two of you were friends. But you can't blame yourself for it either. She hid it well from all of you."

Michelle nodded her head. She knew Deeks was right. They had done thorough background checks on her, she'd been squeaky clean. Perhaps too squeaky clean, now Michelle thought about it, and none of it had been true. "Perhaps she was better at this charade than we were."

"You all hid who you really were until she was in danger, remember?"

"But all along, she knew who we really were. I wonder, now we know that she's the enemy—-if that case which brought those men to Joelle's house all those years ago, were really going to hurt her? I mean, what if she had been shopping deliberately to have that SD card dropped into her bag if any of them were chased, and they'd all nearly got away with it, except for Nell and Eric's good eyes seeing it being dropped into Joelle's bag." Michelle said her thoughts out loud to the detective.

"Oh man!" Deeks sat down in the chair as Michelle poured their tea. "If you're right, she may have staged it to get Callen to come clean on who he really was."

"We may never know," Michelle surmised.

"No, we may not," Deeks agreed. "Are you going to tell Kamran?"

Michelle shook her head. "Not if I don't have to. This will be hard news for her."

"But won't she ask where she's gone to, you do keep contact with her still, don't you?" Deeks watched her carry the mugs over to the table and sit opposite him.

"I'm sure we'll come up with something. I only hope they sort this mess out soon, so we can all return to our lives." Michelle was going slightly crazy being stuck in a small town in Oregon. At least she wasn't alone and had the company of the others.

"Me too." He missed his mom and their lives back home. It had only been a week, but they knew no one. For now, they were friends who'd gone away for a break, staying at this beach house, owned by a good friend of theirs. How Granger had pulled this place, he had no idea. He was beginning to think Granger had just as many expensive properties as Hetty dotted all over the place. The way Hetty makes out, they were either gifts or she'd won them in a poker game, like the Moscow apartment. He wondered how Granger had accrued this one.

 **Los Angeles**

Eric's eyes were tired and blurry when he finally found what he was looking for. "Gotcha!"

Callen walked over and looked over his shoulder. "Is that?"

"Eduard Kozlov and Dan Taylor." Eric smiled. "We have a connection." He rose and took his tablet over to Hetty and Garrison. How they remained awake this long, puzzled him, especially with their injuries. "Do you recognise this man?" Eric asked them.

Hetty's eyes widened, she looked up at the man she looked to as her son with worry. "He's Miss Taylor's father?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" Callen saw the concern and furrowed his brow. "Hetty, who is he?"

"Feliks Vasiliev. He was the eldest son in a Russian crime family we were to get close to and shut down. They were our assignment. Kozlov's father was close with Felik's father, the two men grew up together. At that time, I didn't know who Kozlov was, or his connection to the Vasiliev family. There was no mention of him or his father in the information provided to me."

Garrison inhaled deeply. "I did, however. I have Hetty here to thank for saving my life that day."

"What happened?"

"Kozlov came in and burned me. But Hetty told him that he must have me confused with someone else. It was a good thing Hetty had become good friends with Petya Vasiliev's wife, Nadia.

"Where are Petya and Nadia now?"

"Dead, I believe. They were killed in an aeroplane accident a few years later, leaving Feliks the family empire." Garrison shook his head. "We were lucky. We got out of Russia as soon as we could after that. Of course, I hid in Prague for a while, before I deemed it safe to return again. I had to change my name again though."

"Do you know where this Feliks would flee to with his daughter?"

Garrison thought about it for a moment. "When I worked for them, I heard something about a summer retreat, somewhere hot."

"Did you ever know where it was?" Callen continued. He was desperate to end this hunt on his father and the woman who was like a mother to him. And he was desperate to see and hold his wife and children again.

"It's one of the Berry Islands in the Bahamas." Garrison tried to reach back into that memory, when the woman beside him had posed as his wife, and provided warmth next to him for almost two months.

"Do you know which one?" Joelle had never mentioned the Bahamas or any island in the time they'd been together. How odd his father had worked for Joelle's grandfather on assignment all those years ago. He's was only ten back in 1980. It was hard to think that something his father and Hetty did back then had started this whole fiasco now.

"No, unfortunately, I don't. I wish I could help you more," Garrison replied.

"You have," Eric piped in. I've found a private jet heading for the Berry Islands, it left Van Nuys Airport around four yesterday." Eric looked at his watch. "They should be there by now. The plane was due to land at Great Harbour Airport around ten last night."

"Ugh!" Callen wasn't happy that they'd vanished so far so quickly. "Can you tap into their security cameras, Eric? If we could find out the flight manifest of occupants, we just might find video footage of them. Someone might know where they went from there." Callen was itching to go.

"I'll see what I can do." Eric went to work, it was more challenging to work at this current safe house, than at OSP, but he didn't want to risk it with those Russians still on the loose.

Hetty made a call, it may be early hours, but they couldn't waste any further time. After she'd spoken, she hung up and looked up at Callen, Sam and Owen, who all had their eyes on them. "I have arranged a jet for you to take you there. Finish this business once and for all for us, please, gentlemen."

"Will do, Hetty." Sam pulled Callen away, they needed their gear from OSP. They had to head in through the back entrance, just incase these Russian men Kozlov had sent earlier, had returned. Owen went with them, they needed all the help they could get. They were down too many agents as it was.


	23. Chapter 23

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 23**

 **Moscow, 1980**

Henrietta Lange stood beside Konstantine Chernoff, who was very much a stranger to her, getting married inside one of the many Russian Orthodox Churches in Moscow. Well not them as per say, but their aliases, Vera and Iosif Mikulin. They were a husband and wife team, who were to get close to one of the major Russian crime families, so the U.S. Government could take them down. Her perfect Russian was behind her being sent to the U.S.S.R.'s capitol for this assignment. Her partner, an undercover CIA operative, was actually a native Russian. But that was all that she knew of the man, who kept tight lipped on who he really was and anything about his personal life. Hetty was used to the secrets people kept close to their chest like a kevlar vest, she'd been in the trade for twelve years, now at age thirty-five, she had mastered her skills in alluding to her real identity.

Although she'd travelled through Europe, North Africa, Asia and South America during those twelve years, this was her first assignment in the Communist country. The cold war continued after WWII, and some days she didn't think it would ever come to an end. Not with the things she'd witnessed to. But her government was striving for this peace just the same. Her mission this time was to get close to the Vasiliev family, get proof of their criminal acts, then take them down. No one was to know anything about what they were doing or why they were there. They were ghosts. If either of them were caught, the U.S. Government would deny knowledge of having any links to them.

Once she met Konstantine and realised he was a native Russian, she understood the real reason why she'd been chosen. It wasn't just her ability to speak fluent in Russian, but also because she herself wasn't a native American. This way, if either of them were caught, the U.S. could cleanly wipe their hands of them. It was a smart move by those high up in the CIA, she'd realised at the time, although, at only sixteen, she'd escaped her birth country and made the United States of America her home. Her own family whom no one knew about, were no better than the family she was about to become acquainted to.

Memories of her childhood in the Black Sea coastal town of Constanta flickered across her memory like a black and white film strip. There were parts that were sketchy, not because her memory failed her, but because she'd spent so long, more than half her life, forgetting it. But now, this assignment required her to tap into those memories so she could flawlessly perform her part of this act.

She only hoped her new partner was up to it. She saw a sadness in his eyes when he didn't think anyone was watching. It pulled on her heart to know more, but he'd been clear that he would not tell her anything. She suspected perhaps he'd lost his family to the war like she had. She'd been left at two days of age with friends of her parents, who like them, had been taken and placed inside a concentration camp. It had been a rough start, which probably contributed to her slow growth and small stature as an adult. But it never took away her strong heart and determination to fight for the innocent and good in this world. Which is why she chose to join the CIA as soon as she could, be involved in something that mattered and to make a difference in this crazy world she'd grown up in.

She rubbed at the Romani wheel tattoo on the inside of her left forearm, a constant reminder to who raised her. The family were relatives of another well known crime family, the Comescus. Bah! She hated that family with a vengeance. Not just because they had killed her dear friend, Clara, and hunted her children ever since, but because of what they had done to her. They'd stripped any innocence she may have had left by the age of sixteen, which is why she'd run, and run she had. They were willing to kill defenceless children, and when she'd tried to protect those Callen children, she'd failed. The CIA shut her rescue mission down, but she'd tried to get Clara and her children out. She'd known the danger Clara was in once her true identity was known—-she'd been raised with the hatred of the enemies of the family indoctrinated into them. Which made her even more determined to befriend Clara when they first met at Langley.

She focussed back on the priest as he went through the motions of marriage. It was strange, she thought. This was probably the only time in her life she would ever experience this ceremony where she was the bride, considering her age. She'd thrown herself into her work so much, that she'd never had marriage on her mind. Of course, in her early days of living in the States, she'd found herself employed in the costume department in Paramount Studios and met many famous movie stars. A smile hinted at her lips of the times she'd twirled with Frank Sinatra, and he'd serenaded her with song after song. They were the good old days, they got her through those tough years when she had to pay her way in this life, once the money from her family she'd taken with her had run out. And then Frank spoiled her even more with a house. Not just any house, but the home she still held dear to her today, Dovecote.

Her mind returned to the present moment, she looked back at the man beside her as he held her tiny hands him his large ones. What one went through for her new country, really was a puzzle to her. She had no reason to why this man, Konstantine, even agreed to be involved in the CIA's mission, nor to this fake marriage. However, no matter how fake it was, there was going to be a real marriage certificate in their alias' names just the same.

She hoped this mission didn't last long. She'd left her good friend, Duke, to watch over a boy—-Clara's boy, while she was away. If only she'd found real love and married, perhaps she could have adopted the boy. But the problems were numerous. Firstly, the boy didn't have a name, only a letter, and the family name had been his mother's, so she wasn't sure it was really his name either. She had no clue to who his father was, and if he was still alive, and then there had been no birth certificate. So the poor boy was left in the system with no family to love and comfort him. He was ten now, soon he would be a teenager and she worried where his life would lead. The amount of times she'd had to call his case worker to have the boy removed from an abusive foster father, had been too many in the few years since she'd found him—-lost and not talking, in an orphanage on the East Coast. She'd moved him to Los Angeles after she'd found out that his sister had drowned at age eleven. She needed to keep a closer watch over him. She'd failed her good friend Clara, and part of her suspected that the Comescus once again may have been behind that too. So she did all she could to protect the last of the Callens, especially from the Comescus.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride," the priest declared in his native tongue.

Henrietta looked up at the tall man and hitched in her breath as he leaned down and gently brushed his lips on hers. They were warm but there was no emotion behind the gesture. It was like kissing a relative who you hardly knew. Konstantine took her by the hand and led her out of the church to a get away vehicle. The drive was quiet, too quiet for newlyweds. She wondered so many things about this assignment, but she wished she could break down the walls of the man beside her.

"We are here," Konstantine announced, as they pulled up outside an apartment building. He carried their bags, she followed carrying her handbag and the small bunch of flowers as her bouquet.

"There is only one bedroom," he told her. He placed the suitcase on the foot of the bed, a double bed, not much room for a man his size, but it didn't matter for her, in her small frame.

"I can sleep on the couch," Hetty decided, not wanting to make the man feel anymore awkward than he already was. Perhaps he'd lost a wife, he looked like he'd been given a death sentence, not just entered into a marriage with her.

"No. We can share. It's been a while since I've shared a bed," he revealed. Then quietly he walked to the kitchen and boiled the kettle, pulling two cups out. "Do you like tea or coffee?"

"Tea. Thank you." Hetty opened her suitcase and carefully hung her clothes away in the small wardrobe, placing her underwear into the draws at the bottom.

It was a tiny apartment, overlooking a small square with cafes and restaurants down below. A tree stood in the middle of the square, it would be pretty in the summer, she mused. It was April, still cold, but new growth was springing forth around the place. At least the place wasn't going into winter, she hoped their operation would be over before then. She'd rather the warmth to the cold any day.

The kettle boiled, Konstantine poured the boiling water into the teapot and left it for a few minutes. "We can go over the details of our assignment while we drink our tea."

Hetty nodded, pleased to be getting on with what they were there for. She hoped it solved the awkwardness between them.

"We have tickets to the ballet tonight." He went on. "Petya Vasiliev will be taking his wife, Nadia, to the ballet tonight. This is our way into the family."

Hetty nodded her head, she'd read the report on the family. She was to befriend the wife, in hope that their new friendship would lead to employment for her new husband, Iosif. She hoped Konstantine was up to the job. If this failed, this would be the last op they would ever work on. Her body shuddered. After all she'd been through, death didn't fear her. What feared her most, was the kind of death she would suffer, for she knew that in her line of work, there was no way she'd go peacefully.

* * *

A month had gone since their wedding day. They were more relaxed around each other and she enjoyed the warmth of his long body curled up next to hers each night. It gave her some form of peace that she'd never experienced, other than her time with Frank, but that had been electrifying. This was more comforting. Like she was home.

Iosif as she thought of him of now, had proven himself well with the Vasiliev family, he'd been taken on by Petya and worked alongside his eldest son, Feliks. The two men had become friends, although Iosif was a little older. There was a woman Iosif had told her about, how she wanted to get out of Russia. He needed to meet with his old contacts for this to happen. She didn't like it, what if making contact with those he used to work with, burned his cover?

The woman was meeting him at a local cafe. Iosif was fond of the coffee there. He used a coin, a unique coin, as identification, so no one would get caught if they met the wrong person. He was there right now, down in the square below their apartment. She peered out of the window carefully. She watched and saw a man enter and join Iosif at a table, drinking coffee. The woman was already there with him. They talked for a few minutes, then she vanished with the unknown man. Her adrenaline kicked in. This was it. If anything was to go wrong, it would be now.

Half an hour passed, Iosif didn't budge from where he sat, he continued to drink coffee, before he headed out the door. She watched him walk across the square to their building and enter. She released the breath she'd been holding in. He was safe. Quickly she busied herself in the kitchen as if she was none the wiser, making dinner for them. She stood at the stove top, stirring the white cheese sauce.

* * *

Everything continued on fine for the next two weeks, until Feliks' friend arrived at the Vasiliev mansion. He was angry, looking for the woman he loved. He wanted to know if Feliks or his father had done anything with her. Both men denied it. Once he accepted their answer, that was when he noticed Iosif sitting in the corner of the room.

"Reznikov. What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Petya stepped forward. "His name is Iosif Mikulin, and he works for me."

Eduard Kozlov shook his head. "No, he's lied to you. I know him from the KBG days. He was sent to prison for helping people escape to America. This man is a traitor," he hissed.

Hetty knew at that moment that her so called husband was in trouble. She had been visiting with the wife, Nadia, at the time. She stepped forward and asked the new visitor that perhaps he had confused her husband with someone else.

Kozlov looked at Iosif with furrowed brows. "It's him, I tell you."

"Why would someone who'd been sent to a Siberian Prison be walking around Moscow free?" Petya added. "I think Vera is right, you've confused him with someone else. Now lets be gentlemen about this and sit down for a drink of vodka."

Kozlov narrowed his eyes as Iosif. Hetty gave Konstantine all the credit for not breaking cover. But once they were clear of this mansion, they had to leave Russia immediately. It looked like her partner's true identity or perhaps another alias from a previous mission, had been burned. She wasn't sure which, but it didn't matter. If they stayed, they were both in danger. She was thankful she was on good terms with Nadia to help soothe this new man. But she wasn't stupid, she knew the this man's woman had been the one Iosif had helped leave the country two weeks earlier.


	24. Chapter 24

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

 **Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands**

It was like arriving on a deserted island, Callen noted. The small single storey, aqua coloured building, signified the airport arrival and departure lounge. He felt like he'd been whisked back to before his time in a time capsule. The sun beat down burning hot, he squinted as he struggled to see through the glare. He pulled his sunglass out of his shirt pocket and sighed slightly. He needed a hat. A wide brim hat to protect him from the rays. Sweat beaded across his brow and under his shirt. The heat sizzled his skin and he wished to be back on Vancouver Island with his family.

Perhaps if it had been winter, he would have appreciated this small piece of paradise. Palm trees and small shrubs covered the white sand dunes, the glare of the sand sneaking out here and there. There was hardly a breeze to cool you down, they would need a shower or a swim before they could venture any further, he realised. As he looked over at Sam and Granger, they looked just as uncomfortable. Sam looked almost peeved to be there. He hated the hot weather, he'd grown up in Brooklyn after all. And Granger, although he looked too hot and bothered to care about finding the Taylors, he still managed to look presentable in a summer suit. Glad he left the jacket on the plane, Callen mused. Everyone around them looked like they were dressed for the beach. A woman's summer floral dress clung to her curves. Her black curly hair bobbed on her head as she walked towards them.

"Mr Campbell?" Callen raised his brow, surprised for this woman to approach him using his alias he'd used for the past five years. He'd slotted back being G Callen again, and since meeting his father, Grisha Callen. At last he had his name, not an alias. But now the woman waited for his response, he merely nodded.

"Ms Woods called to advise me that her friends would be arriving this afternoon. You must be hot and thirsty. Please, come with me." The men lifted their bags over their shoulders and followed the unnamed woman. If it hadn't been for them knowing Sylvia Woods as one of Hetty's aliases, they would had demanded more information from her before following.

She walked to a golf cart, the three men looked at each other who had expected a vehicle. She turned and looked at the men who stood a few metres from her and the cart. "We'll fit. No need to worry." She smiled and her white teeth shone brightly in the sunlight. A small chuckle escaped her lips. "Aah, Ms Woods said you'd be this way." Her smile stayed on her lips, as she waited for the men to board the cart.

Sam sat in front next to her, she was petite in comparison to him and he felt odd riding shotgun. He turned and gave Callen a look, who merely shrugged. After all, he was in the front and Callen was stuck going backwards next to Granger. Sam's eyes scanned for a camera, thinking Hetty and the others would be back in Los Angeles laughing at them. But there wasn't any, infact there had been no cameras at the airport or any on the island. Eric had come up blank on their search of Joelle and her father.

"Is this the only way we can get around the Cay?" Sam asked the woman.

She turned slightly and smiled. "No. You can hire a vehicle if you wish. But I prefer the slow pace of the golf cart."

Sam, Callen and Owen sighed with relief. "Good," Sam replied. He couldn't fathom them trying to find their suspect and give chase in this thing.

"I will make arrangements for you." She headed north on the only road that passed the airport. They travelled slow, allowing the men to enjoy the view of the coast on their right. Ten minutes later, she pulled into a large white house with wooden trims, overlooking the ocean. It was calm and tempting the men to jump in to cool down.

Inside, the house was cool and it relieved the men from the heat of the day. "Take your pick of which bedroom you wish to have," she told them. "I live in the village, only a phone call away. I've stocked the refrigerator with food and drink." She opened the fridge and poured them a glass of ice tea and set them on a tray, taking them to a table, with a view over the ocean.

"Who do we call?" Sam asked her, still curious to who this woman was, other than a local.

"Grace." The woman smiled. "I was named after Grace Kelly." She handed Sam her business card. "If I'm not there, someone in my family can reach me."

The men watched her leave. They sat down and revelled in the cool liquid, while looking out over the white sandy beach.

"I feel like I'm on holiday," Sam stated matter of factly. "At any moment, our wives and kids will enter and make the serenity dissolve. But I'd rather them with us right now than this."

"I agree." Callen fidgeted with his glass. The iced tea had cooled him significantly and it also helped that the house was cool. Goosebumps formed on his skin. He involuntarily shivered. "I miss them so much."

"Let's find Joelle and her father, so we can return to them," Owen brought the men back to why they were here. He didn't want them to ponder long, else their homesickness will take over and he didn't want either men to take any risks. How could he face their loved ones if anything happened to them?

"Right." Callen pulled the laptop out of its bag and opened it. He pressed the on button and waited to log in. Before long, Eric appeared on the screen. "Eric, have you found them yet?"

Eric rubbed his hands over his tired face. "I'm trying. But it's like they've vanished. Since their plane's departure from Van Nuys Airport, we don't have any video footage of them anywhere. Nor can I find any properties in the Bahamas under either of Feliks' names.

"Have you asked my father for help on this?" Callen knew it was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack. There was a purpose on why the Taylors had flown to this destination. From what he could see, it was almost deserted. It shouldn't be difficult for them to find them if they remained on this Cay. But, and this was where things would get complicated for them, if they had a boat here, they could be anywhere by now. And if they had left this Cay, their chances of finding either of them would be minimal.

"I have. He's been a great help. He remembers seeing a photo of a particular house. But it was so long ago, that if this house was in the Bahamas, it could have been renovated many times since and look completely different."

"So, we're looking for two needles then." Callen stood and walked to the rear bifold doors that opened up onto a rear covered deck and the ocean. It certainly was paradise. Not Hawaii lush, but Bahamas blue with pristine white sandy beaches. He could almost feel the soft sand between his toes. His kids would love it here. Nell would burn, there was no doubt about it, and she would spend most of her time either under the shade of the house or under a wide brim hat, smothered in sunscreen.

"Yes," came Eric's reply. "I'm sorry, Callen. The three of you are going to have to search on foot now."

Callen turned and looked at Sam. "That's going to be a problem. She knows Sam and me." He looked at Granger. "But she's never met you."

Owen Granger shook his head. "No she hasn't." Now Owen was pleased he'd come. He'd have to do the searching over this Cay, looking for signs of Joelle and her father. It was the only way they could look without their presence being known. "Let's form a plan, and I'll head out to look for them. Eric. Can you have Garrison draw up the house he remembers, and write down any details around the house, like if it was on the beach, what kind of vegetation there was, a harbour, or other houses around it. Anything we can work with from our end."

"Will do." Eric wrote down the information Granger wanted without the funny coded words he'd written down in the past, that had led to their Assistant Director tear up his note paper. It helped him to remember more with just one word, but in this case, he really couldn't explain things to Callen's father or to Hetty on why he'd write down whipped cream and dominatrix on a sheet of paper. He really needed to come up with some very different codes to help him remember things from now on.

The satellite video connection to the Los Angeles safe house was disconnected. Callen opened up a map of the Cay and the three men discussed their next move. It was agreed that Sam and Callen had to keep out of sight. It wasn't difficult for the men to remain in the house, although the beach outside was tempting. It drew him in, luring him like a seductress. He wanted to swim. But until they knew where Joelle Taylor and her father were, it wasn't a wise move.

Owen stepped out into the heat and felt like he'd drawn the short straw. While the younger men remained in the cool house, he was outside sweltering in the heat of the day. He'd switched to shorts and a white cotton shirt, at least he'd packed right for the occasion, even if they'd left with hardly any warning.

The golf cart was annoyingly slow and bumpy. Every bump in the road vibrated through the cart and through Owen's body. Shudder, shudder, bump. It would take him forever to get around and search for the Taylors at this rate. But at least he was doing something, and could do something. Sending Callen and Sam to this location probably hadn't been a wise more on Hetty's part, but it was too late to change the plan. They were low on agents as it was, but they would have been better off sending an unknown team to follow the Taylors, it would be difficult for Callen and Sam having Joelle involved as it was. But at least Callen wasn't still in a relationship with the woman. He'd moved on and had married one of their team and had a couple of kids with her. He hoped it'd been long enough for Callen to no longer have feeling for the red head. Hopefully, they would return soon with their suspects in custody.

He headed north to the Sugar Caves. The beach houses along the road all looked empty, except for the odd one or two. This was the playground for the rich, a place they could relax and not worry about crowds or the paparazzi. He supposed the locals all lived beside the harbour where it was more protected, and surrounded by their own kind. The locals lived far more simple than the rich visitors who arrived on their private jets or luxury yachts, yet they were happy and content. But then again, who wouldn't be happy and content, living in this place?

The road became too bumpy to continue on. He turned the golf cart around and decided he'd wait until they had access to the car before he searched further north. He looked at his watch. It was five in the afternoon. Cocktail time. He'd spotted a restaurant and bar further south. It would be a good time for happy hour, and hopefully, people spotting.

Owen Granger pulled back into the driveway of their accommodation. He was impressed at how swift the old spy worked in finding this place. He longed for some more ice tea. The heat had taken it out of him, but that stop at the bar had been a bonus, even if there had been no sign of their suspects. He hoped tomorrow brought them a lead and arrest.

Two hopeful eyes stared back at him as he entered. He shook his head in response.

"It can't be that hard, " Callen responded. How big is this Cay?"

"Bigger than you think, travelling in that golf cart." Owen swallowed the cool liquid and slumped into an arm chair.

Sam chuckled. "Where did you get to?" It was their first day there. They'd only arrived that afternoon, they needed a plan in their search, so they could eliminate areas already searched. Owen had gone northward, there were no signs of them there. That left them with south and west. Once the car arrived, it would make it easier for Owen to find them, he was certain. They had to. Because he was becoming angst not seeing his wife and daughter for so long.

"Tomorrow will be easier," Sam added.

"With a car, getting around will be easier for sure." Owen grumbled.


	25. Chapter 25

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 25**

Callen couldn't sleep, his old insomnia returned. Flashes of his time with Joelle returned with a force. He could hear her laughter as if she was right beside him. He opened his eyes. There was a silvery light over the ocean. The sun hadn't peeped over the horizon as yet, but it would soon enough and the landscape before him would return to the vivid colours he'd seen the day before. He washed his face and stared back at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and puffy.—-evidence of the lack of sleep he'd had. A restlessness wrestled inside of him, he needed to get out and go for a run. What damage could he do if he ran at this early hour? Who would be awake to see him? He pulled on his running gear and left a note for the others. As he stepped out onto the rear deck, Sam stood looking out over the water. He joined him on the sand and waited for his partner to talk.

"I couldn't sleep," Sam stated. "I keep going over moments with Joelle, clues that she wasn't who she said she was."

"Me too." Callen lunged forward, stretching his muscles. Ever since his last minute decision to compete in an ironman without training, he'd set about a good routine in running, swimming and cycling, which he's continued during his time on Vancouver Island. Nell's healthy eating regime had him fitter and healthier than he'd ever been. He wasn't going to punish his body like he had years ago, ever again.

"Going for a run?" Sam raised his brow, looking at his partner's attire.

"Yes." Callen continued his stretching. "My arm's feeling good as new."

"Want your partner to tag along?"

Callen grinned. "That would be good. Like the good old days."

"Except for the pigs n' blanket," Sam chuckled. "I'll get my gear."

Callen continued to stretch out his muscles, especially his calves, while he waited. Sam was beside him stretching in a matter of minutes, before they headed south along the beach. The sand squeaked under the pressure from their footprints as they ran at a steady pace. They were in sync with each other and both men felt good about the freedom to run. They remained silent like the early morning around them. Although the air was warm, they had no sun to fry them, making it bearable.

A woman's voice echoed through the silence over the beach. A man raised his voice in return. Callen and Sam stopped and looked to the south of them. In the dull light, Joelle's red hair shone in the distance. Realising that they were exposed on the beach, they turned and headed back to their house, hoping Joelle hadn't spotted them. They'd run a mile south. They were staying so close to where the Taylor's were, they could walk there.

"Well, that was a successful run," Sam quipped.

"Trouble in paradise," Callen added. "Jo's not happy with her father."

"No." Sam thought for a moment. "We need a plan to arrest them. And I mean now, not later. If they're arguing, they're not going to stay put."

"You're right. Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty."

"Who are you calling a Disney Princess?" Owen Granger padded lightly out onto the deck with a cup of coffee in his hands. It was six in the morning, but all three men were wide awake.

"Glad you're up. You're not going to believe who we found on our early morning run."

"Ariel and King Triton?" Owen sipped on his beverage, taking in the aromas as he inhaled.

"Good one," Sam quipped. "We should do this all the time, come up with names for all of our suspects."

"We do," Callen responded.

"WE do not," Sam argued. "We haven't done anything in five years until recently."

Callen's face became sullen. "At least you knew where we were and could visit us. It's not like we chose to go underground."

Sam realised he'd hurt his partner's feelings. Callen had soften since he'd become a father. Sam had to admit, he liked this version of his partner rather than the lone wolf. "Sorry, G. I didn't mean, it's just that, well, we, you and I haven't been partners for five years. I've missed you, us—-working a case."

"I know. And the first case we get to work on are suspects after my father and Hetty."

"Involving Joelle," Sam added.

Caleb's body tensed at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. "Let's do this." Callen pulled out the map and looked closer at the property where they'd seen the Taylors, trying to disconnect himself from the case. They needed Eric. Callen looked at the time, it would be three in the morning. He hoped the tech wouldn't be snappy at him, but this was important. He switched on the laptop and dialled.

After ringing for a while, he disconnected and called again. Eric finally appeared and looked like Monty on a bad day. His hair was standing on its ends, his glasses slightly askew. "Eric."

"Why are you so bright and cheery?" Eric sat down at the desk, he'd managed to finally switch off and fall asleep before he was rudely awaken.

"It's morning here," Callen advised him. "We've found the Taylors. They're staying in a house just a mile south of us. We need all the specifics of the house, so we can go in unseen and arrest them."

Eric pulled up the property details. "What's the address?"

"We're not sure. We were on the beach when we saw them," Callen admitted."

Eric knitted his brow in concentration. "Okay. Let's do it this way then." He brought up satellite imagery of the houses to the south of where they were. "Which house?"

"The two storey house with the rear deck. It's surrounded by lots of vegetation and has a hut on the beach."

Eric looked at the details. "Got it. Okay. Now I have the address, I can find the owner." He typed away, then he stopped and paused. "That's can't be?"

"Eric?" Sam called through. "What's going on?"

"This can't be right."

"What can't be right?"

"The…um….the owner's name on the house." Eric's mouth was slightly ajar in shock.

"Eric?" Callen pushed.

Eric heaved out a heavy breath.

"Eric," Sam called over the satellite connection. "Who's name is on the property?"

Eric was silent for a moment. "One of our top politicians."

"Which one?"

"The one who no one liked, but somehow manage to almost become president at the last elections."

"Trumbull?"

"Yes."

"Well, well, well. Looks like the rumours of Trumbell being in bed with the Russians was true after all," Callen muttered.

"No kidding." Sam shook his head. "Good thing people voted against him in the end."

"Yeah!" Callen agreed. "Eric, send us the details. We need to move on this now. They were arguing early this morning."

"I'll send it through as soon as I can."

"And see if you can find out about the family. See if there are any ties to the Russians, if the family are who they say they are, or Russian like the Taylors," Callen told him.

"Will do. It will take me a while." Eric disconnected the call and went to work.

Sam looked at his companions. "We need that car now. Not later." He looked for Grace's contact details and handed it over to Callen to dial.

"Grace. It's Stephen Campbell. When can we have the car?"

Grace smiled. Her mother's old friend, Sylvia, had called and asked her to have the car ready early, knowing that her friends would want to explore before it became too hot. "I'll bring it over now."

"Thank you, Grace." Callen placed the phone back down on the dock and looked back at the others. "Grace is coming now with the car."

"Good. Let's hope it drives faster than the golf cart," Granger grumbled.

A slight smirk edged on Callen's lips, imagining Granger galloping about the Cay in the golf cart. It was something he struggled to imagine, although he'd sat next to him on it the day before.

"Smile all you want, Callen. It's bumpy and slow. Painfully slow."

Sam and Callen's smiles broadened. "We get it." Sam added, slightly chuckling.

Owen smiled in return, the banter was a good sign that these agents were good to go to take down Ariel and King Triton. It suited the father-daughter duo perfectly. Now they had to come up with their plan quickly and hope they moved in before they were spotted.

* * *

Owen didn't like the plan, but he had to admit, Callen's plan was the best any of them had devised. Callen would arrive from the beach access, Sam in the car, Owen on the golf cart. He'd arrive first and ring the bell as the distraction, to allow Callen to sneak inside the house unseen from the beach. Sam would enter from the side of the property, almost surrounding them from all sides. It was a fortunate thing that the property had a lot of vegetation surrounding the house for cover.

All three men went their separate ways. It didn't take them long to be into position. Owen moved up the driveway and climbed out. He scanned the area, so far there was no signs of any bodyguards. This was good. They had no idea who was with Joelle and her father, or if any of the Russian mercenaries had joined them. He walked up to the front door and rang the bell. He wondered why on such an isolated Cay, there would be the need for a bell. Surely people would pop in from the beach to say hi to friends?

The door opened, Owen wasn't expecting to see the former presidential runner to be standing in the entry. He had a look of impatience about him. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Owen worked hard to suppress the grin that wanted to form. The man was the same in real like that he was on television. He wasn't disappointed. "I've lost my dog. She jumped off my cart outside your property and ran this way."

The reddish blonde hair laid over to one side, hid face contorted as he thought on a response. "Hump! I suppose it's better that you find the bitch than it messing up my place. Go on. But not inside the house."

Owen nodded, pleased to be escaping the narcissistic jerk. He got to work, calling Biscuit. It had been Callen's idea for the name, Sam chuckled,—-obviously there had been an in-house joke between them over the name. But he went along with it. He'd pester them another time on what was so funny. Then again, as he wandered calling for the dog, he realised just how ridiculous he was, calling out for Biscuit. What kind of name was that? He knew that the English called their cookies, biscuit, but for a dog? He shook his head and continued to wander around the garden. He'd seen Sam slip in from the side. Owen didn't want to move too far back, just incase it left the front of the property exposed for their suspects to escape. For now, they wanted Dan and Joelle Taylor. It would only be a matter of time before Eric found something solid to issue an arrest warrant on Trumbull. He hoped Eric was successful.

He heard the rumble of a car in the garage start up. He ran around the front, Dan and Joelle Taylor were inside it. They'd spotted them and knew that they were after them. He fired shots at the vehicle, which came to a halt at the front gate. Sam and Callen ran from inside the house and joined him, their weapons drawn.

"Dan and Joelle Taylor, you are both under arrest." Callen opened the door and pulled the man he knew as Dan Taylor out. "Hello, Dan. Or should I call you Feliks Vasiliev?" Dan wrestled in his hold. Callen pushed him against the vehicle and cuffed him. "Feliks Vasiliev, you are under arrest for conspiring to kidnap a Federal Agent, hunting down families of Federal Agents and for spying within the U.S. borders."

Callen looked over the roof of the vehicle and caught the indignant look in Joelle's eyes. She tried to fight off the cuffs as Owen Granger tied her wrists together. Owen muttered her arrest charges. Sadness filled Callen's heart that she could be this person. He'd hoped that somewhere underneath, that kind person he'd gotten to know, was the real one. But there was no evidence of the old Joelle he'd dated for two years in her eyes. It was if she was a complete stranger. He hauled Dan from off the vehicle, Sam came into the driveway with their hired car.

Dorian Trumbull stormed out of his beach house, demanding answers on what they were doing on his property arresting his house guests. Sam walked forward and stood his ground in front of the man. His face was sour and mean. Nothing changed, Sam concluded. This man was the same as he'd seen on television for years. And some people thought that if he became President, he'd change and be good for the country. Bah! Sam thought. There's no way this man should have reached Presidential candidate in the first place. Not with his reputation and behaviour. He was likened to a spoiled toddler.

"If you don't stand back, Sir, you'll be joining them," Sam warned.

But Trumbull wouldn't shut up. Sam pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialled Hetty. She appeared on his cell on Skype and he showed it to the man before him. "If you have any complaints, you can discuss them with Henrietta Lange."

"My word, Mr Trumbull. You better not be involved in this. My people are searching your background and family as we speak." Hetty shook her head. "Tut, tut. You will allow my people to do their job."

Dorian snarled at Hetty. "You witch."

"Huh!" Hetty chuckled. "Is that the best you can do? I've been called much worse than that."

Sam pulled the cell away from Dorian. "Good day, Sir." He turned around and updated Hetty on their success and that they were coming home.

"Good work, gentlemen. We'll be waiting for you."


	26. Chapter 26

**POISK**

 _Disclaimer: NCISLA characters belong to Shane Brennan. All original characters and this story are mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 26**

The flight home dragged on for Callen, Sam and Granger. The Taylors were difficult suspects to transfer. Thankfully for them, Director Vance wanted them taken to Washington D.C., so he and his team there could interrogate them instead. Considering the close personal ties Joelle had with Callen and Sam, the men agreed. But it left Callen in a sullen mood on the remainder of their flight back. Sam wasn't much better. Seeing this different side of Joelle had rattled them. It did nothing for Callen with his trust issues either. Owen hoped Hetty had good news for them on their return, or he knew his men would leave and find their families. They were missing them terribly.

Callen dragged himself out of the streamline jet and followed the others to an awaiting vehicle. It was a black SUV with tinted windows. They climbed in and buckled their seatbelt. The short drive back to the safe house where Hetty, Eric, Garrison and Gibbs were, was lengthened due to security. The driver was a trusted agent whom the team all knew well. They'd resolved the mole issue, and there were no longer any enemies that Callen knew off after his father or his family.

Kids squealing caught both Callen and Sam by surprise. As they rounded the house into the back garden, there waiting for them were their families. Even Aiden had made it home for the family reunion.

Sam lifted Michelle up and planted a deep kiss on his wife, pulling Kamran and Aiden in for a family hug. He held them there for as long as possible. This moment couldn't come soon enough for the former Navy SEAL.

Alice and Tristan bowled Callen onto the lawn, they were too excited to contain themselves. Callen hugged them tight until they wriggled themselves out of his grasps. Standing again, he gazed over to his wife of five years, his eyes wet with tears. He moved the remaining distance and wrapped his arms around her. He inhaled her scent, roses and vanilla. "I've miss you so much."

"Us too." Nell held onto her husband, she never wanted to be apart from him this long again. Although she understood the reason, she still didn't like it. Two weeks had been long enough. She looked back up into his cerulean orbs and studied him. "Are you okay?"

Callen nodded. "Yeah, now I have you back with me I am." He gently brushed his lips on hers, savouring the moment. He felt the small bump and smiled. Before they knew it, there would be another Callen running around with his or her siblings.

Garrison and Gibbs sat in the shade, taking in the family reunion. Owen Granger walked over and joined them. Hetty stood and walked over to her boy and his family. "Welcome home, Mr Callen."

"Hetty!" Callen searched her eyes for news. There were still the Russian mercenaries and Jonathan Sparks to deal with.

"It's safe now, Grisha. The CIA picked up Sparks and have arrested him for his involvement in all of this. The FBI picked up the Russians yesterday. There's need to hide anymore. Mr Trumbull has been picked up in New York by the NSA for questioning about his dealings with Feliks and the Russians. Eric here found some interesting information that will have Dorian quiet for a long time."

Emotion ripped through Callen. He held Nell close, his kids ran around them excitedly. "Thanks, Hetty. Eric."

"I'm glad you are all home and safe." She left them alone to enjoy being back together again.

Michelle walked over to them. "So, Grisha. How does it feel to have your name back?"

"Great." Callen hugged her. "Good to be back, Shell."

"Us too." She looked at Nell. "Looks like we owe you a tenner for guessing Callen's name."

Nell blushed. "I have to confess. G messaged me earlier. So no one owes anyone anything."

Michelle laughed. "Oh you're good. Real good. I would never have known you had inside information."

"Who had inside information?" Kensi moved in to hug Callen and Sam.

"Nell. Apparently Callen messaged her about his name."

Kensi feigned shock on her face. "You little sneak. Someone's been having lessons on deception."

"Nell didn't need any lessons," Callen supported his wife. "She's a natural." He had a twinkle in his eye.

"Callen, Sam." Deeks shook both men's hands. "Good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, Deeks." Sam slapped his shoulder in a man hug. "How's it going with you?" It wasn't difficult to see the grin that permeated from his face. Something good had happened while they were away.

"Kensi's pregnant. We're having a baby." It felt so good to tell them the news. Congratulations went all round to the parents to be.

Callen walked over to his father and Gibbs. "Good to see you two looking brighter."

"We're good." Gibbs answered. "I fly home tomorrow." Gibbs studied him for a moment. "How are things, Grisha?" Gibbs enjoyed using Callen's name. It had been so long coming.

"Better. Glad to be home with family." He smiled, but he let slip the sadness in his eyes to his old and dear friend. The situation with Joellle had affected him.

"Glad to see you home again. You deserve the break."

"I know. It's been non-stop for two or so weeks." He had to think hard back to when life hadn't been so crazy. He looked over at his children, running madly, chasing Deeks. They'd adapted to the change and challenges with ease. They'd surprised him.

Nell joined Callen by his side. She wasn't letting him go anytime soon. Callen looked deep into her hazel eyes. His love had grown over the years, but now he loved her even more. He fell to one knee. "Nell. Will you marry me again in front of all of our family?"

Nell's eyes welled up with tears. "Grisha!" She nodded. "Of course."

Callen stood and captured her lips, deep with passion. Whoops echoed all around them. They were home and safe amongst those who mattered the most to them.

The End!


End file.
